
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 


























































































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“AS HE DESCENDED, HE CAUGHT THE SORROWFUL AND TENDER 
ACCENTS OF THE WORD ‘FAREWELL '” 1 





HANS OF ICELAND 



VICTOR ' HUGO 


TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH 

BY 

HUNTINGTON SMITH 

) 




i ; 


AUG 4 itoê 




Kl 


NEW YORK : 46 East Fourteenth Street 

THOMAS Y. CROWELL & COMPANY 


BOSTON : 100 Purchase Street 


Copyright, 1896, 


By Thomas Y. Crowell & Company 


07 - 5 ^/ 


C. J. Peters & Son, Typographers, 
Boston. 


AUTHOR’S INTRODUCTION. 


( 1833 .) 


Hans of Iceland is a book by a young man, — by a very 
young man. 

One feels in reading it that the lad of eighteen, who in a 
flush of inspiration wrote Hans of Iceland in 1821, was wholly 
without experience of things, wholly without experience of 
men, wholly without experience of ideas ; and that he sought 
all this by divination. 

Into every intellectual product, — drama, poem, or romance, 
— three elements enter : what the author has felt, what the 
author has observed, what the author has imagined. 

In romance, especially if it be good, there must be an abun- 
dance of feeling and observation ; and the imaginative ideas 
must derive logically and simply, and without break of con- 
tinuity, from the results of observation and feeling. 

Applying this law to Hans of Iceland , one is able easily to 
grasp what constitutes the cardinal defect of the book. 

In Hans of Iceland one thing only is felt, and that is a 
young man’s love; one thing only is observed, and that a 
young girl’s love. Everything else is imagined, that is to say, 
invented ; for youth, unsupported by facts or experience or 
examples, reaches ideas only through the imagination. And 
so, admitting that Hans of Iceland is worthy of being classi- 
fied, it is nothing more nor less than a romance of fantasy. 

When the season of exuberance is passed, when thought 
supplants fancy, when one feels the need of doing something 
else besides making marvellous stories to frighten old women 
and little children, when the crudeuess of youth has been 

5 


6 


AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION. 


modified by contact with life, — then one recognizes that every- 
thing in connection with invention, creation, and divination in 
art must be based upon study, observation, the collection of 
facts, knowledge, measurement, comparison, serious meditation, 
and an attentive and continual purpose to keep close to nature 
and conscientious self-criticism ; and inspiration, instead of 
being hampered, is set free by these new conditions, and de- 
rives from them an increased store of vitality and greater 
capacity for flight. The poet then knows precisely what 
road he is taking. The floating reveries of his earlier years 
solidify, so to speak, and become thoughts. This secondary 
period of life is, for the artist, ordinarily the period when he 
produces great masterpieces. He is still young and yet 
mature. Then arrives the most precious time of all, the in- 
termediate and culminating point, the torrid and radiant hour 
of noon, the moment when shadows are least and light is at 
the maximum. 

Some supreme artists there are who, in spite of the decline 
of years, are able all their lives to hold to the zenith. These 
are the men of overtopping genius. Shakespeare and Michael 
Angelo left upon some of their works the stamp of youth ; but 
the touch of age upon none. 

To return to the romance, of which a new edition is here 
published. Such as it is, — with its disjointed and breathless 
action, its lack of individuality in character, its barbarous in- 
felicities, its haughty and awkward bearing, its artless inter- 
vals of revery, its inharmonious collocation of color, its dry, 
acrid, unshaded and ungraceful crudeness of style ; with all 
the myriad defects of thoughtless over-action that attend its 
course, — this book is a fairly adequate representation of the 
period of life at which it was written, and the peculiar condi- 
tion of soul, imagination, and heart during adolescence, when 
one is in love with one’s first love ; when one transforms the 
conventional hindrances of life into grand and poetic obsta- 
cles ; when one’s head is filled with heroic and visibly expand- 
ing fancies ; when one is in two or three respects a man, and 


AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION. 


7 


in twenty others yet a child ; when at eleven one has read 
Ducray-Duminil, at thirteen Auguste Lafontaine, at sixteen 
Shakespeare, — a marvellous and quick-lifting ladder, roughly 
transferring one’s literary affections from the silly to the sen- 
timental, and from the sentimental to the sublime. 

And it is because this book, with artlessness as its predomi- 
nant quality, depicts with some truthfulness the period that 
brought it forth, that it is again presented to the public in 
1833 just as it was written in 1821. 

For the rest, since the author, small as may be the place he 
holds in literature, has undergone the lot of all writers, big 
and little, of seeing his first works exalted at the expense of 
his later ones and of hearing the assertion that he is far from 
having fulfilled the scant promise with which he began, — not 
wishing to combat a criticism which, perhaps, after all may be 
well founded, with denials that might savor of self-interest, — 
he believes it to be his duty to republish frankly and simply 
his first works, just as he wrote them, in order that his read- 
ers may be able to decide for themselves if the steps that 
separate Hans of Iceland from Notre Dame of Paris have 
been steps backward or in advance. 


Pakis, May, 1833. 










PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. 


The author of this work, from the day when he wrote the 
first page, up to the hour when he was able to inscribe the 
grateful word u finis ” at the bottom of the last, was the sport 
of a most ridiculous illusion. Imagining that a literary pro- 
duction in four volumes was worthy of some degree of pre- 
meditation, he wasted his time searching for a fundamental 
idea ; in developing it, well or ill, upon a plan good or bad ; 
in arranging his scenes, combining effects, in studying as 
thoroughly as possible the conditions, — -in a word, he took 
his book seriously. 

It is only at this stage of affairs, — at the moment when, 
in conformity with usage, authors leave off where readers 
begin, — when he was about to elaborate a long preface, which 
was to serve as a protecting shield for his book, and to contain, 
together with an exposition of the literary and moral princi- 
ples upon which its conception depended, a more or less rapid 
review of the different historical events involved, and a more 
or less complete topographical survey of the country where 
the story is laid ; only at this moment, be it repeated, has the 
author discovered his mistake, recognized the utter insignifi- 
cance and frivolity of the puppets in whose behalf he has 
so studiously blackened so much paper, and realized how 
thoroughly he has, as it were, mystified himself in supposing 
that this romance could, except in very limited terms, be re- 
garded as a literary production, or that these four volumes 
would make a book. 

He therefore wisely resolved, after making all due apolo- 
gies, to say nothing more whatever in this preface, which his 


10 


PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION . 


publisher will consequently take pains to print in big type. 
He will not inform the reader either as to his name or his 
surnames ; whether he is young or old, married or single ; 
whether he has made elegies, or fables, or odes, or satires; 
or whether he desires to make tragedies, or dramas, or come- 
dies ; whether he poses as a literary aristocrat in an academy, 
or whether he holds a position on a newspaper, — and yet all 
these things would be very interesting, if known. He will 
simply content himself with observing that the descriptive 
portions of his romance have been a source of particular soli- 
citude ; that those romantic characters, the K’s, the Y’s, the 
H’s, and the W’s, which appear frequently, have really been 
employed with extreme sobriety, — witness, for instance, the 
historic name of “ Guldenlew,” which several chroniclers write 
“ Guldenloëwe,” and which the author has not dared to ven- 
ture on ; that, moreover, the numerous diphthongs have been 
varied with much taste and elegance ; and, finally, that all 
the chapters are preceded by strange and mysterious epi- 
graphs, which give a singular interest and a characteristic 
physiognomy to each division of the book. 


January, 1823. 


PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. 


The author of this work has been informed that it is 
absolutely necessary to devote a few lines, by way of adver- 
tisement, preface, or introduction, to this second edition. In 
vain has he pleaded that the four or five unlucky and mean- 
ingless pages prefixed to the first edition, and which the 
publisher has obstinately refused to suppress, have already 
drawn down the anathemas of one of our most honorable and 
distinguished writers , 1 11 who has accused the author of assum- 
ing “the sub-acid' tone ” of the illustrious Jedediah Cleish- 
botham, schoolmaster and sexton of Gandercleugh parish. In 
vain has he pleaded that this brilliant and judicious critic, 
so severe upon the first fault, would doubtless be pitiless at 
its repetition ; in vain has he presented, to put it briefly, 
a multitude of other reasons, not less good, for avoiding a 
second fall. It is clear that they must have been met by 
better ones; for here he is at this moment writing a second 
preface, after having so deeply repented the writing of the 
first. When the task was fairly determined upon, he first 
thought of placing at the forefront of this second edition, 
what he had not dared to impose upon the first, that is, 
certain general and particular views regarding the romance. 
Meditating upon this little literary and didactic treatise, he 
was still in the all too brief mysterious intoxication of com- 
position, — when the author, thinking to grasp an ideal per- 
fection that is beyond his reach, is thoroughly wrapped up 
in the progress of his work, — it was, be it repeated, at this 


1 C. Nodier; Quotidienne , March 12. 

11 


12 


PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. 


moment of interior ecstasy, when work is a delight and secret 
intimacy with the Muse seems sweeter far than the dazzling 
pursuit of glory, — it was then that one of his friends, the 
wisest of all, came and snatched him rudely from his dreamy 
abstraction, assuring him that many very eminent, very popu- 
lar, and very influential men of letters would find the dis- 
sertation, which he was maliciously preparing, nothing less 
than insipid and dull ; that the dolorous necessities of criti- 
cism, with which these men are charged in divers public 
prints, imposing upon them the painful necessity of relent- 
lessly pursuing the monster of romanticism and bad taste, 
they would devote themselves, without a minute’s delay, to 
the preparation for certain impartial and intelligent journals, 
of a conscientious, logical, and, more than all, a pungent 
criticism upon the potential dissertation aforesaid. At this 
terrible warning the poor author — 

“ Obstupuit ; steteruntque comae ; et vox faucibus haesit ” • 1 — 

that is to say, he had no other resource but to leave in the 
limbo whence he was about to fetch it a dissertation, “ virgin 
and yet unborn,” as Jean Baptiste Rousseau has it, upon 
which criticism so just and implacable was about to sharpen 
its fangs. His friend advised him to replace it simply with 
a sort of “ publisher's announcement,” through which medium 
he could, with entire decency, say all the pretty little things 
that tickle so sweetly an author’s ears. In fact, numerous 
models taken from works very much in favor were presented 
to him. Some of them began with these words : “ The im- 
mense and popular success of this work,” and so on; others 
started off in this way : “ The European celebrity which this 
romance has acquired,” and so on ; others declared : “ It is 
a wholly superfluous task to praise this book, since universal 
opinion maintains that the most ardent laudation is far 
beneath its merit”; and so forth, and so forth. Although 

1 “Was stupified; his hair stood up; and his voice stuck in his throat.” 


PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. 


13 


these different formulas, according to the discreet counsellor, 
were not without a certain virtue in their favor, the author 
of this book did not feel that he was possessed of sufficient 
paternal humility and indifference to expose his work to the 
disenchantment and exactions of a reader who had been served 
with these magnificent apologies ; neither did he feel that 
he had enough effrontery to imitate the travelling mounte- 
banks, who, to stimulate the curiosity of the public, paint 
a crocodile upon a piece of canvas, and behind it exhibit, to 
those who have paid their money, nothing but a lizard. 

He rejected, therefore, the astonishing idea of sounding his 
own praises through the mouths of those indulgent gentle- 
men, his publishers. His friend then suggested, as a sort of 
passport to his villanous, brigandly island, something that 
would bring it into the prevailing mode and excite fashion- 
able sympathy, such as delicate pleasantries concerning mar- 
quises, bitter sarcasms about priests, and ingenious allusions 
in regard to nuns, monks, and other monsters of the social 
order. The author would have asked for nothing better ; but, 
to tell the truth, it did not seem to him that marquises and 
monks had any very direct relation to the work which he has 
published. He might, indeed, have borrowed other colors 
from the same palette, and thrown in here a few philanthropic 
pages, in which, — always avoiding prudently the dangerous 
shoals concealed beneath the seas of philosophy and known as 
the “ correctional tribunal,” — he might have brought for- 
ward some of the truths discovered by the wise for the glory 
of man and the consolation of the dying ; for instance, that a 
man is nothing but a brute, that the soul is only a little gas 
of more or less density, and that God is nothing. But it 
occurred to him that these incontestable truths were already 
well known and not of much importance, and that he would 
be adding barely one scant drop to the deluge of rational 
morality, atheistic religions, maxims, doctrines, and principles, 
which inundate us for our happiness after we are thirty years 
old, with such overwhelming force that one might, if it were 


14 


PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. 


not irreverent to do so, apply to them Régnier’ s verses upon 
the storm : — 

“ Des nuages en eau tomboit un tel degoust, 

Que les chiens altérés pouvoient boire debout.” 1 

Moreover, these lofty themes have no very obvious connection 
with the subject of this book; and the author would have been 
very much embarrassed in trying to bridge the chasm, in spite 
of the fact that the art of transition has been singularly 
simplified, since so many eminent men have discovered the 
secret of passing without a shock from a market-stall to a 
palace, and of exchanging without any appearance of incon- 
gruity a soldier’s fatigue cap for a civic crown. 

Realizing, then, his inability to bring forth, either by talent 
or knowledge, — “ by wings or by beak,” as an ingenious 
Arabian verse has it, — a preface that would be interesting 
to his readers, the author has determined to offer to them 
here nothing but a serious and candid account of the cor- 
rections that have been made in this second edition. 

First of all he desires to say that the term “ second edi- 
tion ” is decidedly out of place, and that the title of “ first 
edition” is really applicable to this reprinting, inasmuch as 
the four unsymmetrical packages of black-and-white spotted 
grayish paper, which an indulgent public has been kind 
enough hitherto to accept as the four volumes of Hans of Ice- 
land, have been so desecrated with typographical incongrui- 
ties by a barbarous printer, that the unhappy author, in 
looking over his unrecognizable offspring, underwent contin- 
ually the agony which a father might feel on recovering his 
child, mutilated and tattooed at the hands of the Iroquois 
of Lake Ontario. 

Here the “ esclavage ” (slavery) of suicide became “ usage ” 
(custom) ; elsewhere typographical manipulation gave to a 
“ lien ” (fetter) the voice of a “ lion ” ; further on, the moun- 

1 The water fell from the clouds in such a flood, 

That the dogs could drink it up, just as they stood. 


PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. 


15 


tain of Dof re-Field was deprived of its “pics ” (peaks), and 
furnished with “pieds” (feet); and when the Norwegian 
fishermen undertook to moor their boats in the “ criques ” 
(inlets), they pushed their craft up on the “ briques ” (bricks). 
Not to weary the reader, the author will pass over in silence 
the numerous outrages of this kind that have left their mark 
upon his embittered memory, — 

“ Manet alto in pectore vulnus.” 1 

Enough to say that there is no grotesque simile, no un- 
couth meaning, no absurdity of thought, no inconsistency 
of form, no idle burlesque, that the industrious stupidity of 
ignorance of this puzzle-devising printer’s foreman has not 
made him express. Any one, alas, who has had occasion in 
the course of his life to get a dozen lines put into print, were 
it only a marriage announcement or a burial notice, is aware 
of the profound bitterness associated with a grief of this 
kind ! 

It is therefore with the most scrupulous care that the 
proofs have been revised for this new impression; and now 
the author dares to believe, together with one or two of his 
intimate friends, that the restored romance is worthy of tak- 
ing its place among the glorious writings, in presence of 
which “the eleven stars bow down as if in presence of the 
moon and sun.” 2 

If the newspaper critics accuse the author of not having 
revised his text, he will take the liberty of sending to them 
the proofs of his regenerated book, blackened with the record 
of microscopic labor, — for it is said there still remain among 
these gentlemen more than one doubting Thomas. 

For the rest, the benevolent reader will observe that nu- 
merous dates have been corrected, several historical notes 
added, and, more particularly, that one or two chapters have 
been enriched with new epigraphs. In a word, he will find 


1 Deep in his breast remains the wound. 


2 Alkoran. 


16 


PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. 


on every page changes, the extreme importance of which can 
only be measured by that of the work itself. 

An impertinent adviser desires that the author should place 
at the foot of his pages translations of all the Latin phrases 
that Doctor Spiagudry scatters through the volume, for the 
edification — thus he went on — of certain bricklayers, bra- 
ziers, and hair-dressers, who edit certain journals, before 
which Hans of Iceland may perhaps come up for judgment. 
It may easily be imagined with what indignation the author 
received this insidious advice. He instantly informed the un- 
timely joker that all journalists, without distinction, are per- 
fect luminaries of urbanity, erudition, and good faith; and 
begged him to have the decency to believe that he was not to 
be reckoned among the number of those ungrateful citizens 
who are always ready to address to the censors of taste and 
genius this malicious verse from an ancient poet, — 

“ Tenez-vous dans vos peaux et ne jugez personne ” ; 1 

that he, in fact, was far from believing that the “ lion’s skin ” 
was not the natural covering of these popular dignitaries. 

Still another has exhorted him — for he owes it to his 
readers to make a clean breast of the whole matter — to put 
his name upon the title-page of this romance, which up to 
now has figured as the abandoned child of an unknown father. 
It must be confessed that, in addition to the satisfaction of 
seeing the seven or eight Roman letters, making up what they 
call his name, standing out in handsome black lines on the 
fine white paper, there is a certain decided charm in the idea 
of seeing it shine forth in isolation upon the back of the 
printed cover, as if the work which it enclosed, far from being 
the only monument of the author’s genius, were only a single 
column of a stately temple, some day to be the shrine of his 
immortality, and only an inadequate example of his hidden 
talent and unpublished glory. That, at the very least, would 


Keep to your skins and never judge anybody. 


PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION . 


IT 


prove an intention to be some day an illustrious and impor- 
tant writer. To triumph over this new temptation, the 
author has been obliged to fall back upon the fear that he 
would never be able to struggle through the crowd of scrib- 
blers, among whom, even in casting off his anonymity, he 
would always be “ the unknown.” 

As to the objection that several delicate-eared amateurs 
have brought forward, touching the barbarous uncouthness of 
Norwegian names, he considers it to be entirely justifiable ; 
and he proposes, as soon as he shall have been elected to 
membership in the Royal Society of Stockholm or the Bergen 
Academy, to suggest to the good-natured Norsemen a change 
of language, on the ground that the villanous jargon which 
they are so odd as to employ is an offence to Parisian hearing, 
and that their grotesque names, as rugged as their cliffs, have 
upon the sensitive tongues of those who attempt to pronounce 
them doubtless much the same effect that their bear’s oil and 
bark-bread would have upon the acute and sensitive percep- 
tions of a cultivated palate. 

It remains for him to extend his thanks to the eight or ten 
persons who have had the kindness to read his book entirely 
through, and who have thus demonstrated the truly prodigious 
success which it has obtained. He also wishes to express 
his gratitude to those among his fair readers who, as he is 
informed, have evolved for themselves out of his book an 
ideal author for Hans of Iceland. He is infinitely flattered 
when they endow him with red hair, a curly beard, and fiery 
eyes ; he is ashamed to think that they do him the honor of 
believing that he never trims his nails ; but he supplicates 
them upon his knees not to think for a moment that he 
carries his ferocity to the extent of devouring little children 
alive. However, all these details will be determined when 
his fame has ascended to the level of that of the authors 
of Lolotte arid Fanfan, or Puss in Boots, — those transcen- 
dent creatures, twins in genius and taste, “ arcades arnbof — 
and there shall be placed at the head of his works his por- 


18 


P BEF ACE TO TEE SECOND EDITION. 


trait, “ terribiles visu formae,” and his biography, “ domestica 
facta.” 

He was about to close this already too long note when 
his publisher, at the moment of sending the work to the news- 
papers, has asked him to prepare a few little notices setting 
forth its merits, adding, to obviate all possibility of objection 
on the part of the author, that his “ writing will not be made 
known,” and that he — .the publisher — will “copy them him- 
self.” This last suggestion is really quite touching. Since it 
is evident that in this epoch every person of distinction feels 
bound to instruct his neighbor with regard to his capabilities 
and personal perfections, — matters concerning which no one 
could be better informed than the wearers of them, — as, 
moreover, this latest temptation is a sufficiently strong one, 
the author believes that, in case he should succumb, he ought 
to warn the public never to take seriously more than half of 
what the newspapers say about his book. 


April , 1823. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


CHAPTER I. 

Did you see it ? Did you see it ? Did you see it ? Oh, did you see it ? 
Who saw it ? Who did see it ? For mercy’s sake, who saw it ? — 
Sterne : Tristram, Shandy. 

“You see what love leads to, friend Niels. That poor 
Guth Stersen would never be stretched out on that great 
black stone, like a starfish cast up by the sea, if she had 
never thought of anything else but patching up her father’s 
boat, and mending the fish-nets of our old comrade. May 
St. U suph, the fisherman, console him in his affliction ! ” 
“And her lover,” put in a shrill and trembling voice; 
“Gill Stadt, the fine young man that’s close beside her — 
he wouldn’t be there if, instead of making love to Guth and 
hunting for a fortune in those cursed Roerass mines, he had 
spent his youth in swinging his younger brother’s cradle 
under the smoky beams of his cottage.” 

“Your memory grows old with you, mother Oily,” inter- 
rupted neighbor Niels, whom the first speaker had addressed ; 
“ Gill never had a brother, and so the sorrow of poor widow 
Stadt is all the more bitter, for her cabin is now wholly 
deserted. When she looks to heaven for help, her eyes light 
upon the empty cradle, still Ranging from the roof, of her child 
who has grown to a big young man, and is dead.” 

“ Poor mother,” responded old Oily. “ As for the young 
man, it was his own fault. Why did he turn miner at 
Roerass ? ” 


19 


20 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“It’s true enough/’ said Niels, “that those infernal mines 
rob us of a man for every stiver of copper we get from them. 
Isn’t that so, neighbor Braal ? ” 

“ Those miners are fools,” replied the fisherman. “ Fish 
don’t have to leave the water to make a living, and a man 
ought not to go underground.” 

“ But,” queried a young man in the crowd, “ suppose that 
Gill Stadt was obliged to work in the mines to win a wife ? ” 

“It’s not right to risk one’s life for a fancy that’s not 
worth the penalty. It’s a fine marriage-bed that Gill has 
made for his Guth.” 

“ Did the girl drown herself in despair at the young man’s 
death ? ” asked one who stood by. 

“ Who said that ? ” cried a soldier, who had just forced 
his way through the throng. “ This young girl, whom I knew 
very well, was in fact engaged to a young miner, who not long 
ago was crushed in a blast in one of the lower levels of Stor- 
waadsgrube, near Roerass ; but she was also the mistress of 
one of my comrades, and day before yesterday, when she was 
trying to steal her way into Munckholm to celebrate the death 
of her betrothed with her lover, the boat she was in was cap- 
sized on a reef, and she was drowned.” 

A confused medley of voices arose. “ That can’t be true, 
master soldier ! ” exclaimed the old women, while the young 
ones were silent, and neighbor Niels wickedly reminded Braal, 
the fisherman, of his former words, “ You see what love leads 
to!” 

The soldier was in a fair way to get very angry with his 
feminine dissentients. He had saluted them as “ old witches 
out of Quiragoth’s Cave,” and they were showing little dis- 
position to endure patiently so serious an insult, when a 
strident and imperious voice, crying, “ Peace, peace, you 
crones ! ” put an end to the discussion. Silence followed, 
like that which pervades a flock of hens when the master 
of the feathered harem orders them to be quiet. 

Before narrating the scene that followed, it perhaps will 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


21 


be worth while to describe the place where it occurred. It 
was — as no doubt the reader has already fancied — one of 
those melancholy structures consecrated by public pity and 
social necessity to serve as a last asylum for the unknown 
dead, whose lives, for the most part, have been anything but 
happy ; a place where the thoughtless sightseer, the cynical 
or charitable observer, and often the friends and weeping rel- 
atives, gather, the latter through long and insupportable anx- 
iety being left with only this deplorable hope. At this 
distant epoch, and in the comparatively uncivilized country 
to which I have transported the reader, they had not as yet 
devised the plan adopted in our dirty, gilded cities, of trans- 
forming such places into ingeniously gloomy and elegantly 
funereal monuments. No light entered there through a tomb- 
like opening along an artistically sculptured vault, to fall 
upon a series of resting-places that seem to have been devised 
to give the dead some of the comforts of the living, and 
where even the support for the head is shaped like a sleeper’s 
pillow. If the keeper’s door stood open, the eye, wearied 
with the inspection of naked and hideous corpses, could not 
have the pleasure, as with us, of lighting upon elegant furni- 
ture and merry children. Here death appeared in its native 
ugliness and in all its horror, and no effort had as yet been 
made to bedeck its grisly form with trinkets and with rib- 
bons. 

The room where the present company had gathered was 
large and dark, and the very darkness made it seem larger 
than it really was. The only light that entered came through 
a low, square door opening upon Drontheim quay, and through 
a rudely contrived opening in the ceiling, whence it descended 
in pale, wan rays, with rain and hail and snow, according to 
the weather, upon the dead bodies arranged directly beneath. 
The room was divided by an iron railing breast-high. The 
public came in to the first section through the square door, 
and saw beyond the railing six long pieces of black granite 
placed in the foreground, side by side. A little side door 


9-2 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


gave access to each section, for the keeper and his assistant, 
whose lodgings were at the rear of the structure, bordering on 
the sea. The miner and his betrothed lay upon two of these 
granite beds. Decomposition had already begun to show 
itself upon the girl’s body, in the broad blue and purplish 
streaks marking the course of the blood-vessels upon her 
limbs. Gill’s features were stern and sombre, but the body 
was so horribly mutilated that it was impossible to form any 
opinion regarding the assertion of mother Oily about his 
physical beauty. 

Before these disfigured bodies, and amid the gazing crowd, 
the conversation previously recorded began again. A tall, 
gaunt old man, seated, with folded arms and bowed head, 
upon a rickety stool in the darkest corner of the apartment, 
and apparently paying no attention to what was going on, 
suddenly got up and exclaimed, “ Peace, peace, you crones ! ” 
and walked over and seized the soldier by the arm. 

Every one was silent, until the soldier turned and broke 
into a tremendous outburst of laughter at the sight of this 
singular personage, whose emaciated face, scanty and un- 
combed locks, long fingers, and garb of reindeer skin, amply 
justified the hilarious reception. The women, however, who 
had been silenced for a moment, began to murmur. 

“ It’s the keeper of the Spladgest . 1 Cursed janitor of the 
dead ! That devil of a Spiagudry ! Infernal sorcerer ! ” 

“ Peace, crones, peace ! If this is your witches’ sabbath, 
hurry to your brooms, or they will fly away from you. 
Trouble no further this honorable descendant of the mighty 
Thor.” Then Spiagudry, assuming with difficulty an in- 
gratiating grimace, turned to the soldier, and said, “ You tell 
me, my good man, that this miserable woman ” — 

“ The old scoundrel,” muttered Oily ; “ yes, we’re all ‘ mis- 
erable women,’ because when our bodies fall into his claws he 
gets a fee of only thirty ascalins, while for the carcass of a 
worthless man he gets full forty.” 

1 The morgue at Drontheim is so called. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


23 


“ Silence, you witches,” exclaimed Spiagudry. “ Why, 
these devils’ daughters are like their caldrons ; when they’re 
heated, they boil and bubble. Tell me now, sir knight of the 
sword, did your comrade, who had Guth for his mistress, go 
and kill himself in despair at losing her ? ” 

At this point the long-restrained explosion burst forth. 
“ Listen to the old sinner, the old pagan,” shrieked twenty 
strident and discordant voices ; “ how glad he’d be to know 
that there was one living man the less, that he might get 
forty ascalins for the body ! ” 

“ And if that be true,” responded the keeper of the Splad- 
gest, “ has not our gracious king and master, Christiern V., 
whom St. Hospitius bless, proclaimed himself the born pro- 
tector of all miners, that when they die he may enrich his 
royal treasury with their pitiful heritage ? ” 

“ You do too much honor to the king,” responded Braal, 
the fisherman, “ to compare the royal treasury to the strong 
box of your charnel-house, and him to you, neighbor Spiagu- 
dry.” 

“ Neighbor ! ” said the keeper, offended with so much famil- 
iarity. “ Your neighbor ! Say rather your host ; for it may 
very well be some day, my fine boat propeller, that I shall 
have you for a week as the tenant of one of my six stone 
beds. And yet,” he added with a laugh, “ if I spoke of the 
soldier’s death it was simply because I wanted to see an old 
custom perpetuated, — That of committing suicide as a sequel 
to the noble and tragic passions which these ladies have the 
privilege to inspire.” 

“Oh, come now, corpse-like keeper of corpses,” said the 
soldier ; “ what are you trying to get at, with that amiable 
grin of yours, which looks more than anything else like a 
gallows-bird’s last smile ? ” 

“Well said, my fine fellow,” responded Spiagudry. “I 
always thought that there was more clever wit under the 
helmit of soldier Thurn, who lays out the devil with sword 
and tongue, than under the mitre of Bishop Isleif, who wrote 


24 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


the history of Iceland, or under the four-cornered hat of 
Professor Shoenning, the memorialist of our cathedral.” 

“ In that case, if you will be advised by me, old leather- 
sack, you will give up your charnel-house fees, and sell your- 
self as a curiosity to the viceregal museum at Bergen. I 
swear to you, by St. Belphegor, that they would pay your 
weight in gold for such a rare specimen of animal as you are. 
But tell me, what do you want with me ? ” 

“ When the bodies brought here have been taken from the 
water, we are obliged to give up half the fees to the fisher- 
men. I only wanted to beg of you, illustrious and soldierly 
descendant of the house of Thurn, to get your unfortunate 
comrade not to drown himself, but to choose some other 
method of death. It ought to be a matter of indifference to 
him ; and he would not wish, in his last moments, to wrong 
the unfortunate Christian to whose tender mercies his corpse 
will be consigned, — if, indeed, the loss of Guth will really 
drive him to a deed so desperate.” 

“ That’s where you deceive yourself, my beneficent and 
hospitable keeper. My comrade will not have the pleasure of 
being received in your cheerful six-bedded tavern. Does it 
occur to you that he may already have consoled himself with 
another charmer for the death of this one ? Why, by my 
beard, he was weary of your Guth full long ago.” 

At this speech, the storm that Spiagudry had momentarily 
drawn upon his own head returned to burst with intensified 
force upon the unfortunate soldier. 

“ What, you wretched scoundrel,” shrieked the old women, 
“ is this the way you forget us ? To think that we should 
love such worthless beasts ! ” 

The younger women continued to keep silence. Some of 
them even thought, in spite of themselves, that the offender 
was after all a pretty good-looking fellow. 

“ Oho,” said the soldier, “ are we celebrating the witches’ 
sabbath ? Beelzebub has devised a frightful penance, if he 
has condemned us to listen once a week to such a chorus as 
this ! ” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


25 


It would be impossible to say liow long this new commo- 
tion would have lasted, if at this moment the general atten- 
tion had not been attracted by a tumult outside. The noise 
increased as it drew nearer ; and soon a swarm of small, half- 
naked boys rushed headlong into the Spladgest, surrounding 
a covered stretcher borne by two men. 

u Where does this come from ? ” said the keeper to the 
carriers. 

“ From the Urchtal sands.” 

“ Oglypiglap ! ” shouted Spiagudry. 

One of the side-doors opened, and a littie Laplander, clad in 
leather, appeared and signed to the carriers to follow him. 
Spiagudry went with them; and the door closed before the 
inquisitive crowd had time to conclude, from the length of 
the corpse upon the stretcher, whether it was that of a man 
or a woman. 

This subject was still under consideration when Spiagudry 
and his second assistant reappeared in the further room, 
carrying the body of a man, which they deposited on one 
of the granite slabs. 

“ It’s many a day since I’ve touched fine clothes like that,” 
said Oglypiglap ; then standing on tiptoe, and stretching up 
his head, he hung above the body a captain’s handsome uni- 
form. The head of the corpse was disfigured, and the- other 
members covered with blood. The keeper rinsed it off several 
times, from a leaky old pail. 

“ By St. Beelzebub ! ” the soldier exclaimed, “ that’s an 
officer from my regiment. Let’s see, perhaps it’s Captain 
Bollar, from grief at the loss of his uncle. No, that can’t be ; 
he’s the heir. Is it Baron Randmer ? He risked his estate 
at cards yesterday ; but to-morrow he’ll get it back, and win 
his opponent’s castle. Is it perhaps Captain Lory, whose 
dog was drowned ? or Paymaster Stunck, whose wife is un- 
faithful ? But really, I don’t see any reason why either of 
these should have blown out his brains.” 

The crowd was all the time getting larger; and at this 


26 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


moment a young man passing along the quay, catching sight 
of the gathering of people, dismounted from his horse, handed 
the reins to the servant who followed him, and entered the 
Spladgest. He wore the unassuming garb of a traveller, 
carried a sword, and was wrapped in a large green cloak. 
A black plume, fastened to his hat with a diamond buckle, 
fell down in front of his imposing face, and waved back and 
forth above his high forehead, which was shaded with long 
chestnut hair. His mud-bespattered boots and spurs pro- 
claimed that he had come from a distance. 

As he entered, a short, stout man, also wearing a cloak and 
with big gauntlet gloves upon his hands, said to the soldier, — 

“ Who told you that he killed himself ? This man has no 
more committed suicide, I warrant, than the roof of your 
cathedral has set fire to itself.” 

As the twibil makes two wounds, so this utterance 
prompted two replies. 

“Our cathedral,” said Niels, “is now being covered with 
copper. It was that miserable Hans, so ’tis said, who set it 
on fire to give work to the miners ; and one of them was his 
special favorite, Gill Stadt, lying here before you.” 

“ The devil you say,” exclaimed the soldier ; “ do you dare 
to tell me, second arquebusier in the Munckholm garrison, 
that this man did not blow his brains out?” 

“ The man was assassinated,” said the little man coldly. 

“Just listen to the oracle ! See here, your little gray eyes 
can see no more clearly than your hands can, covered as they 
are with big gloves in midsummer.” 

A flash of light shot from the eyes of the small man. 
“ Soldier,” said he, “ beseech your patron saint that these 
hands do not some day leave their imprint on your face.” 

“ Oh, let us get outside,” shouted the soldier, crimson with 
anger. Then suddenly checking himself, he added, “ No, we 
must not speak of duelling in the presence of the dead.” 

The little man muttered a few words in a strange tongue 
and disappeared. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


27 


“ *Twas on the Urchtal sands they found him,” said a voice. 

“On Urchtal sands?” said the soldier. “Captain Dis- 
polsen was to land there this morning, on his way from 
Copenhagen.” 

“ Captain Dispolsen has not yet arrived at Munckholm,” 
said another voice. 

“ ’Tis said that Hans of Iceland is really wandering about 
that shore,” suggested a fourth. 

“ If that is the case, possibly this man is the captain,” said 
the soldier, “ if Hans is the murderer ; for every one knows 
that the Icelander kills in such a devilish manner that his 
victims often have the appearance of having committed 
suicide.” 

“ What sort of a man is this Hans ? ” asked one. 

“ He is a giant,” said another. 

“ He is a dwarf,” said still another. 

“ And no one has ever seen him ? ” the first voice went on. 

“ Those who see him for the first time, see him also for the 
last.” 

“ Hush ! ” said old Oily ; “ there are only three persons, 
Tis said, who have ever exchanged human speech with him, — 
this rascally Spiagudry, the widow Stadt, and — but he had 
a sorrowful life and a sorrowful death — poor Gill, you see 
there. Hush ! ” 

“ Hush ! ” was repeated on all sides. 

“ How,” suddenly exclaimed the soldier, “ I am sure, of a 
truth, that this is Captain Dispolsen. I recognize the steel 
chain that our prisoner, old Sehumacker, gave him at his 
departure.” 

“ You are confident that this is Captain Dispolsen ? ” asked 
the young man with the black plume, breaking the silence. 

“ Sure, by the virtues of St. Beelzebub ! ” responded the 
soldier. 

The young man quickly went out. “ Get a boat for Munck- 
holm,” said he to his servant. 

“ But, my lord, what about the general ? ” 


28 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“Take the horses to him. I shall go to-morrow. Am I 
my own master or not ? Be spry ; it is getting late, and 
I am in a hurry, — a boat.” 

The valet obeyed, and for some time kept his eyes upon his 
young master, as the latter put off from the shore. 


HANS OF ICELAND . 


29 


CHAPTER II. 

I will sit by, the while, so thou wilt tell 
Some moving story, to beguile the time. 

Maturin: Bertram. 

The reader is already aware that we are at Drontheim, one 
of the four principal cities of Norway, although not the 
residence of the viceroy. At the period when these events 
occurred, that is, in 1699, the kingdom of Norway was still 
a part of Denmark, and was governed by viceroys, whose 
headquarters were at Bergen, a larger and more southern city, 
and a handsomer, than Drontheim, in spite of the vulgar 
nickname given to it by the celebrated Admiral Van Tromp. 

Drontheim has a very inviting aspect to any one ascending 
the bay, to which the city gives its name. The harbor, which 
is of considerable size, although vessels cannot easily gain an 
entrance under certain conditions of wind and tide, presented 
at this time the appearance of a long canal, bordered on the 
right by Danish and Norwegian, and on the left, in accord- 
with the regulations, by foreign ships. The city stands upon 
a well-cultivated plain, surmounted by the lofty spires of its 
cathedral. This church is one of the finest examples of 
Gothic architecture, as may be easily judged from the book 
by Professor Shœnning, so learnedly referred to by Spiagudry, 
which describes it as it was before frequent fires had devas- 
tated its charms, and when it bore upon its main spire the 
Episcopal cross, proclaiming it to be the cathedral of the 
Lutheran bishopric of Drontheim. Above the city, in the pur- 
ple distance, one eould see the white, sharpened peaks of the 
Kole mountains, standing up like the pointed florets of an 
antique crown. 


30 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


In the middle of the harbor, about a cannon-shot from 
shore, the solitary fortress of Munckholm stood, upon a mass 
of rocks amid the dashing waves. It was a sombre prison, 
which at this time contained an inmate who had become cele- 
brated by the brilliancy of his continued prosperity and his 
sudden downfall. 

Schumacker, a man of lowly birth, had been loaded with 
favors by his master, then dragged down from his place as 
grand chancellor of Denmark and Norway to the traitor’s 
seat, thence hauled to the scaffold, and from there, through 
. royal clemency, cast into an isolated dungeon on the extreme 
verge of the two kingdoms. He had been pulled down by 
creatures of his own making, and could not justly proclaim 
them as ingrates. What right had he to complain, if the lad- 
der which he had lifted so high, only for his own advantage, 
broke beneath his feet ? 

From the depths of his exile he, who had established the 
• nobility of Denmark in their places, saw his own honors 
divided among those whom he had made. His mortal enemy, 
the Count of Ahlefeld, succeeded him in the grand chancellor- 
ship ; General Arensdorf, as grand marshal, had the control 
of military assignments ; and Bishop Spollyson performed the 
functions of inspector of universities. The only one among 
his enemies who was not indebted to him for advancement 
was Count Ulric Frederic Guldenlew, natural son of King 
Frederic III., viceroy of Norway ; and he was the most gener- 
ous of them all. 

Towards the gloomy rocks of Munckholm the boat contain- 
ing the man with the black plume was slowly making its way. 
The sun was sinking rapidly behind the lonely fortress, and 
cast its horizontal rays upon the structure so directly, that 
the peasant on the distant western hills of Larsynn could see 
the undefined shadow of the sentinel on the highest turret of 
Munckholm, moving beside him along the heath. 


IIANS OF ICELAND. 


31 


CHAPTER HI. 


Alas, my heart could not be more acutely wounded! This ill-conditioned 
fellow has dared to look upon her, and sully her purity with his gazing ! 
Claudia! I am beside myself at the very thought! — Lessing . 1 


“ Andrew, let it be known that in half an hour the curfew 
will be sounded. Sorsyll will relieve Duckness at the port- 
cullis, and Maldivius will stand guard on the platform of the 
main tower. See that close watch is kept on the Lion of 
Schleswig donjon. Don’t forget to fire the seven o’clock gun 
for the raising of the harbor chain, — but no, Captain Dispol- 
sen is still awaited, so take care to have the signal lighted, 
and see that the one on Walderhog is lit according to the 
orders already given. Above all, don’t fail to have refresh- 
ments ready for the captain ; and — I was near forgetting — 
give Toric Belfast, second arquebusier of the regiment, two 
days in solitary ; he has been absent since morning.” 

Thus spoke the sergeant-at-arms, under the black, smoke- 
stained arches of Munckholm guard-house, which occupies the 
lower tower, overlooking the castle’s outer gate. The soldiers 
to whom he had given orders left their games and their beds 
to carry out his directions, and silence followed. A moment 
later the measured, alternating throb of oars was heard with- 
out. 

“ Here comes Captain Dispolsen, at last,” said the sergeant, 
opening the little barred window which looked out on the 
bay. A boat was approaching the foot of the iron gate. 

“ Who goes there ? ” called the sergeant in a husky voice. 

“Open ! ” was the response ; “ peace and security.” 

“ The public is not allowed to enter. Have you a permit ? ” 
1 Emilia Galotti. 


32 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“Yes.” 

“ I’m coming to find out. If you are lying, then, by the 
virtues of my patron saint, you shall have a drink of sea- 
water.” Then closing the wicket and turning away, he added, 
“ It was not the captain, after all.” 

A light appeared behind the iron gateway, the rusty bolts 
creaked, the bars were raised, the gate swung open, and the 
sergeant scrutinized the writing offered by the newcomer. 

“ You can pass,” he said. “ Stop a minute, though,” he 
added brusquely ; “ leave your hat-buckle outside. No one is 
allowed to enter a state prison wearing jewels. The regula- 
tions are that ‘ the king and members of the royal family, the 
viceroy and members of the viceregal family, the bishop, and 
garrison commanders are alone excepted.’ You don’t come 
under any one of those privileged classes, do you ? ” 

Without replying, the young man unfastened the prohibited 
buckle, and tossed it as a guerdon to the fisherman who had 
brought him ; and the fellow, fearing that such generosity 
might be repented of, hastened to put a wide space of water 
between benefactor and recipient. 

While the sergeant, grumbling at the imprudence of the 
chancellor’s office in distributing passes so recklessly, was 
replacing the heavy bars, and slowly and noisily climbing 
the winding staircase back to the guard-room, the young 
man, after having thrown his cloak over his shoulder, passed 
quickly through the dark archway of the lower tower, crossed 
the parade ground, and went along by the artillery shed, at 
which point he was warned by an imperious order from the 
sentinel to keep away from certain old dismounted culverins, 
which may to-day be seen at the Copenhagen museum. He 
arrived at the portcullis, which was lifted when his pass had 
been inspected. Then, followed by a soldier, he took his 
course in a diagonal direction, without hesitation and after 
the manner of one to whom the place was familiar, over one 
of the four square courtyards which flank the main circular 
court, in the midst of which rises the great rounded rock, on 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


33 


which at this time stood the tower called Lion of Schleswig 
castle, because Rolf the Dwarf had once imprisoned there his 
brother, Jotham the Lion, Duke of Schleswig. 

It is not our intention to give here a description of Munck- 
holm’s famous donjon, more particularly because the reader, 
thus entrapped in a state prison, might perhaps fear that he 
would not be able “to escape by way of the garden.” He 
would be in the wrong; for the Lion of Schleswig castle, 
reserved for prisoners of note, afforded them, among other 
advantages, that of a promenade in a sort of wild garden, 
by no means small, where clumps of holly, several aged yew 
trees, and a number of black pines grew from the rocks about 
the lofty prison and inside the enclosure of great walls and 
enormous towers. 

Reaching the foot of the rounded rock, the young man pro- 
ceeded to ascend a series of rudely cut steps, leading in zigzag 
fashion to the foot of one of the outer towers, which was 
pierced by a postern in its lower part, and so gave entrance to 
the donjon. There he blew loudly on a copper horn, which 
the keeper of the portcullis had given him. 

“ Open, open ! ” called a voice from within ; “ no doubt it’s 
that cursed captain ! ” 

As the postérn opened, the visitor could see into an ill- 
lighted Gothic apartment, where a young officer was lying in 
a careless attitude on a pile of cloaks and reindeer skins, close 
by one of those tliree-burnered lamps which our ancestors 
were wont to suspend from their mullioned ceilings, and which 
for the time being had been placed upon the floor. The luxu- 
rious and even excessively elaborated elegance of his costume 
was in vivid contrast with the nakedness of the apartment 
and the rudeness of the furniture ; he held a book in his hand, 
and half turned toward the newcomer. 

“ The captain, is it ? Glad to see you, captain ! You didn’t 
think, did you, that you were to meet a man who had not the 
pleasure of your acquaintance ; but that difficulty will soon 
be got over, is it pot §Q ? To begin Avith, accept my profound 


34 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


condolences upon your return to this ancient castle. Short as 
is the time that I have sojourned here, I am getting to be as 
frisky as the owl fastened above the donjon gate as a scare- 
crow ; and when I return to Copenhagen, to attend my sister’s 
wedding-feast, it’s odds of four to a hundred that the ladies 
won’t recognize me ! Tell me, do they still wear knots of 
pink ribbon at the bottom of the waistcoat ? Have any new 
romances of the French woman, the Demoiselle Scudéry, been 
translated ? This is Clélie that I have here ; I suppose it 
is still read at Copenhagen. It serves as a sort of lover’s 
missal for me, now that I sigh in exile remote from so many 
enchanting glances ; for, enchanting as they are, the eyes of 
our young prisoner — you know to whom I refer — say 
nothing at all to me. Ah, if it were not for my father’s com- 
mands ! I must tell you in confidence, captain, that my 
father — pray never mention it — charged me to — you un- 
derstand — make up to Schumacker’s daughter. But all my 
efforts go for nothing, for this pretty statue is not a woman. 
She is always weeping, and never looks at me.” 

The young man, who had thus far not been able to break 
in upon the officer’s excessive volubility, uttered an exclama- 
tion of surprise. 

“ What ! What are you saying ? Charged with the seduc- 
tion of the unfortunate Schumacker’s daughter ? ” 

“ Seduction ? Well, yes, if that’s what they call it. at 
Copenhagen in these days ; but I’d stump the very devil to 
do it. Day before yesterday, when I was on duty, I took the 
trouble to carry her a magnificent French strawberry, which 
had been sent to me clear from Paris. Will you believe me 
when I tell you that she didn’t even lift her eyes to look at 
me, although I crossed her room three or four times, clinking 
my new spurs, which have rowels as big as a Lombardy 
ducat ? — That’s the newest idea, is it not ? ” 

" Good Lord ! Good Lord ! ” exclaimed the young man, 
striking his forehead. “ This is past belief ! ” 

“ Is it not ? ” responded the officer, misunderstanding the 


BANS OF ICELAND. 


85 


import of the other’s exclamation. “ Not the least attention 
to me ! It’s incredible, and yet it’s true.” 

The young man walked back and forth in extreme agitation, 
with long, quick strides. 

“ Will you have some refreshments, Captain Dispolsen?” 
the officer asked loudly. 

The young man came to himself, and answered, “ I am not 
Captain Dispolsen.” 

“ What ! ” said the officer in a stern voice, and sitting up- 
right ; “ who are you, then, that you dare to come here at this 
hour ? ” 

“ I wish to see Count Griffenfeld,” said the young man, 
showing his passport, “ that is to say, to see your prisoner.” 

“ The count, the count ! ” the officer murmured with an 
offended air. “ But, after all, the pass is correct enough. 
Here is the signature of Vice-Chancellor Grummond de Knud. 
‘ The bearer is authorized to visit all the royal prisons, at any 
hour and at any time.’ Grummond de Knud is brother to old 
General Levin de Knud, commandant at Drontheim, and you 
are probably aware that the old general brought up my future 
brother-in-law. ” 

“ Thanks for these details about your family, lieutenant. 
Do you not think that you have supplied me with sufficient 
information of that kind ? ” 

“ The impertinent fellow is right,” said the lieutenant, 
biting his lips. “ Here, usher ! Usher of the tower ! Take 
this stranger to Schumacker, and don’t grumble because I 
unhooked your three-burnered, single-wicked lamp. I was 
not sorry to have a close look at an article which doubtless 
dates back to Skjold the Pagan, or Havar the Cleaver, — and 
more than that, it’s not the custom to hang anything but 
crystal chandeliers from the ceiling.” 

So saying, the martyr to fashion took up the interrupted 
progress of .the gallant adventures of the Amazonian Clélie 
and the one-eyed Horatius, while the young man and his 
escort were crossing the deserted garden of the donjon keep. 


36 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


CHAPTER IV. 

Mercutio. Where the devil should this Romeo be? 

Benvolio. Not to his father’s; I spoke with his man. — Shakespeare . 1 

While these events were passing, a man with two horses 
had entered the courtyard of the governor’s palace at Dron- 
theim. He had dismounted, shaking his head in a discon- 
tented way, and was on the point of taking the two beasts to 
the stable, when some one seized him roughly by the arm, and 
a voice exclaimed, — 

“What! You are here alone, Poël ? And your master? 
Where is your master ? ” 

This was old General Levin de Knud, who, having per- 
ceived the young man’s attendant and the empty saddle 
from his window, had quickly descended the stairs, and 
fixed upon the valet a glance that betrayed even more dis- 
quietude than his question. 

“ Excellency,” said Poël, with a low bow, “ my master is no 
longer in Drontheim.” 

“ What ! He has been here, then ? He has gone away 
without seeing and embracing his old friend, the general ? 
When was he here ? ” 

“He came and went this very afternoon.” 

“ This afternoon ! This afternoon ! But where was he 
stopping ? Where has he gone ? 

“ He alighted at the Spladgest, and took a boat for Munck- 
holm.” 

“Ah, I thought him at the antipodes. But why has he 
gone to the fortress ? What was he doing at the Spladgest ? 

1 Romeo and Juliet , act ii., scene iv. In Hugo’s version the names of the 
interlocutors are transposed. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


37 


What a knight-errant he is ! But it’s my fault in part, for 
why did I bring him up in that way ? In spite of his rank, I 
wanted him to have individual freedom.” 

“ That’s the reason why he’s not a slave to etiquette,” said 
Poël. 

“No; but he is of his own caprices. Well, well ; no doubt 
he will return. You’ll find food and drink awaiting you, 
Poël. Tell me,” — and the general’s face took on an ex- 
pression of solicitude, — “ tell me, Poël, have you been trav- 
elling about a good deal ? ” 

“We came by the direct road from Bergen, general. My 
master seemed sad.” 

“ Sad ? Has something occurred between him and his 
father ? Was he displeased about the marriage ? ” 

“ I can’t say, but I hear that his serene highness is im- 
movable.” 

“ Immovable ! You say, Poël, that the viceroy is immo- 
vable ! But, in that case, Ordener must have refused consent.” 

“ I can’t say as to that, excellency. He seemed sad.” 

“ Sad ! Do you know how his father received him ? ” 

“ The first time, — it was in camp near Bergen, — his serene 
highness said, ( I do not see you very often, my son.’ — ‘ All 
the better for me, my lord and father,’ my master replied, ‘ if 
you are conscious of it.’ Then he told his serene highness 
about his travels in the North, and his serene highness said, 
‘Very well.’ The next day my master returned from the 
palace, and said, ‘They want me to marry; but I must see 
my foster-father, General Levin.’ I saddled the horses, and 
here we are.” 

“ Yes, yes, my good Poël,” said the general in a different 
tone ; “ he called me his foster-father ? ” 

“ Yes, your excellency.” 

“Woe to me, then, if this marriage displeases him; for 
I would rather undergo the king’s disapproval than to have 
any hand in it. But think of it, — the daughter of the grand 
chancellor of the two kingdoms ! By the way, Poël, does 


38 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


Ordener know that liis future mother-in-law, the Countess of 
Ahlefeld, has been here incognito since yesterday, and that 
the count is expected ? ” 

“ I don’t know, general.” 

“ Oh, yes,” said the old governor ; “ he must know it, other- 
wise why did he beat a retreat so quickly after his arrival ? ” 
Then the general, with a friendly gesture toward Poël, and 
saluting the sentinel, who presented arms, returned to the 
palace, as disturbed in mind as he had been when he came 
forth. 


JIANS OF ICELAND. 


39 


CHAPTER V. 


It seemed as if his heart had been torn by all the passions, and had been 
left desolate. All that remained to him was the sad and piercing glance 
of one who had attained the summit of human knowledge, and who could 
at a look predict the tendency of all things. — Schiller : The Visions . 

When the stranger had ascended the spiral staircases, and 
traversed the upper halls of the Lion of Schleswig donjon, 
and the usher had opened for him the door of the apartment 
he was seeking, the first words that fell upon his ears were 
once more these : “ Is it at last Captain Dispolsen ? ” 

He who asked this question was an old man, sitting with 
his back toward the door, with his elbows leaning upon a 
writing-table, and his head held in his hands. He wore 
a black woollen gown. Above a bed, at one side of the room, 
was a broken shield, around which were hung the broken 
collars of the orders of the Elephant and of Dannebrog. 
Below the shield was fastened a count’s coronet reversed; 
and the two parts of a hand of justice, tied together cross- 
fashion, completed this extraordinary collection of decora- 
tions. The old man was Schumacker. 

“No, my lord,” responded the usher; then he said to the 
stranger, “ Here is the prisoner ” ; and leaving them together 
he closed the door, before hearing the old man’s shrill voice 
in protest : “ If it’s not the captain, I do not wish to see any 
one.” 

Hearing these words, the stranger paused near the door, 
and the prisoner, believing himself alone, — for he had not 
turned around, — fell again into silent re very. All at once 
he exclaimed: “The captain has certainly forsaken and be- 
trayed me ! Men, — why, men are like the bit of ice that 


40 


II AN S OF ICELAND. 


the Arab took for a diamond. He put it carefully away in 
his wallet, and when he looked for it he found not even a 
drop of water.” 

« I am not to be reckoned with such men,” said the 
stranger.” 

« Who is here listening to me ? ” said Schumacker, quickly 
rising. « Is it some wretched hireling of Guldenlew’s ? ” 

« Do not speak evil of the viceroy, my lord count.” 

« My lord count ! Is it to flatter me that you address 
me thus ? Your trouble goes for naught. I am devoid of 
power.” 

« He who speaks to you never knew you in your power, and 
yet is not the less your friend.” 

« It must be that he still hopes to get something from me. 
The extent of the remembrance that one has of the unfortu- 
nate is always measured by the hopes that one has of what 
they may still be able to do.” 

« It is I who have the right to complain, noble count, for I 
remember you and you have forgotten me. I am Ordener.” 

A look of joy came into the mournful eyes of the old man, 
and a smile which he could not suppress parted his white 
beard, like a ray of sunshine coming through a cloud. 

« Ordener ! You are welcome, Ordener, the wanderer. 
May happiness a thousand times attend the traveller who 
remembers the prisoner ! ” 

«Is it true, then,” asked Ordener, «that you had forgotten 
me ? ” 

« I had forgotten you,” said Schumacker, resuming his 
sombre expression, «as we forget the breeze that revives us 
and passes on, happy to think that it does not become a 
whirlwind to destroy us.” 

« Then you did not reckon upon my return, Count of Grif- 
fenfeld ? ” said the young man. 

«Old Schumacker did not reckon upon it; but there is a 
young girl here who reminded me, this very day, that on the 
eighth of last May you had been away a year.” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


41 


Ordener started. “ Great heavens, can it be,” he said, 
“ that it was your Ethel, count ? ” 

" Who else ? ” 

u Your daughter, my lord, has deigned to count the months 
since my departure ? Oh, how many melancholy days I 
have passed ! I have seen the whole of Norway, from Chris- 
tiania to Wardhus, but I was on my way to Drontheim all 
the time.” 

“Make use of your liberty, young man, while it is yours 
to enjoy. But tell me frankly who you are. I should be 
glad to know you, Ordener, by some other name. The son 
of one of my deadliest enemies is called Ordener.” 

“ Perhaps, my lord, this deadly enemy has more good will 
toward you than you have toward him.” 

“ You elude the question ; but keep your secret. I might 
perhaps learn that the fruit that quenches thirst is the poison 
that will kill me.” 

“ Count ! ” said Ordener in an irritated tone. “ Count ! ” 
he repeated, with an accent of reproach and pity. 

“ Am I under any obligation to confide in you,” responded 
Schumacker, “ when you never fail in my presence to take 
the part of the relentless Guldenlew ? ” 

“ The viceroy,” the young man solemnly intervened, “ has 
just commanded that in the future you shall be at liberty, 
and free from the supervision of the guards, within the Lion 
of Schleswig donjon. I learned the news at Bergen, and no 
doubt you will speedily receive an official notification.” 

“It is a favor that I did not dare to hope for, and I be- 
lieved that I never had spoken of this wish of mine to any 
one but you. It is kind of them to diminish the weight of 
my fetters as that of my years increases. When my infirmi- 
ties shall have rendered me helpless, they will doubtless say 
to me, 1 You are free.’ ” At these words the old man smiled 
bitterly, and added, “ And you, young man, do you continue 
to have your crazy ideas about independence ? ” 

“If it were not for those same crazy ideas, I should not 
be here.” 


42 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


u How did you come to Drontheim ? ” 

“ Why, on horseback.” 

“ And how did you get to Munckholm ? ” 

“In a boat.” 

“ Poor, crazy fellow ! He thinks himself free, and jumps 
from a horse’s back into a boat. It is not your own limbs 
that carry out your wishes ; it is an animal, a lump of matter, 
— and yet you call that having your own way ! ” 

“ I make others obey me.” 

“ To maintain toward others the right of being obeyed is 
to give others the right of commanding you. Independence 
is only to be found in solitude.” 

“ You are not an admirer of the human race, noble count ? ” 
The old man laughed mirthlessly. “ I weep at being a 
man, and I laugh at. those who offer me consolation. You 
will learn, if you are ignorant of it now, that misfortune 
engenders suspicion, as prosperity brings forth ingratitude. 
But tell me, since you come from Bergen, what especial favors 
have fallen to the lot of Captain Dispolsen ? Something 
very fortunate must have happened to him, since he has for- 
gotten me.” 

“ Dispolsen, my lord count ? ” said Ordener, in gloomy 
embarrassment ; “ it is to speak of him I come to you to-day. 
I know that he had your entire confidence.” 

“ You know?” interrupted the prisoner anxiously. “You 
are mistaken. I give my confidence to no one. Dispolsen, 
it is true, has the care of my papers — of my most important 
papers. To serve me he went to Copenhagen, to see the king. 
I am quite willing to admit that I expected more from him 
than from any one else, for in the time of my power I never 
rendered him a single benefit.” 

“ Well, noble count, I saw him to-day ” — 

“ Your confusion tells me the rest ; he is a traitor.” 

“ He is dead.” 

“ Dead ! ” The prisoner folded his arms and bent his 
head ; then, lifting his eyes to the young man’s face, he 


II AN S OF ICELAND. 


43 


added: “And yet I was just saying that something fortunate 
had happened to him ! ” 

Then he turned his glance toward the wall, where hung the 
insignia of his banished glory, and made a gesture as if to 
dismiss the witness of the grief he was striving to overcome. 

“ ? Tis not for him I mourn ; it means only one man the 
less. It is not for myself ; what have I to lose ? But my 
daughter, my unfortunate daughter ! I shall be the victim of 
this infamous plot, and what will become of her if her father 
is taken from her ? ” He turned quickly towards Ordener. 
“ How did he die ? Where did you see him ? ” 

“ I saw him at the Spladgest. They do not know whether 
he killed himself or was murdered.” 

“ It is important to know that. If he was assassinated, 
I know whence the blow came ; in that case all is lost. He 
was bringing to me evidences of the plot that they are hatch- 
ing against me. That evidence might have saved me and 
destroyed them. They have blotted it out, indeed ! My 
poor Ethel ! ” 

“ My lord count,” said Ordener, with a salute, “ I shall be 
able to tell you to-morrow whether or not he was murdered.” 

Schumacker, without replying, followed Ordener, as he went 
out, with a glance expressive of the calmness of despair — an 
expression far more awful than the calmness of death. 

Ordener stood in the unoccupied antechamber, without 
knowing which way to direct his steps. It was well into the 
evening, and the room was dark. He opened a door at ran- 
dom, and found himself in an immense corridor lighted only 
by the moon in her rapid course among the flitting clouds. 
The misty radiance fell at intervals through the narrow, lofty 
windows, and sketched upon the opposite wall a long pro- 
cession of ghostly figures, that followed one another in rapid 
sequence amid the obscurity of the gallery. The young man 
solemnly made the sign of the cross, and advanced toward a 
rosy light, which shone indistinctly at the extremity of the 
corridor. 


44 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


A door was partly open; a young girl was kneeling in a 
Gothic oratory at the foot of an unpretentious altar, and was 
reciting in an undertone the litany to the Virgin — that 
simple and sublime orison, in which the soul, aspiring to the 
sympathy of the Sorrowing Mother, prays only that it may 
be permitted to pray. 

The young girl was clad in black crêpe and white gauze, as 
if to bear witness to the world that her life up to that time 
had been compounded of innocence and sorrow. Even in this 
unassuming attitude, her appearance proclaimed her to be a 
person of exceptional qualities. Her eyes and her long hair 
were black, very rare attributes in a northern beauty. Her 
glance, directed to the vaulted roof, seemed to be radiant 
with ecstasy, rather than dimmed in self-communion. She 
was like some vestal from the borders of Cyprus or the fields 
of Tiber, clad in the romantic garb of an Ossianic maiden, 
and prostrate before the wooden cross and stone altar of the 
Christ. 

Ordener trembled and drew back ; he recognized the kneel- 
ing girl. She prayed for her father, for the mighty fallen, 
for the aged captive abandoned, and she recited in clear tones 
the psalm of deliverance. She prayed for some one else, but 
Ordener did not hear the name of the one for whom she 
prayed. He did not hear it, because she did not utter it. 
She only recited the song of the Sulamite, of the wife wait- 
ing for the husband, and the return of the well-beloved. 

Ordener withdrew along the corridor, out of respect for the 
person and the occasion. Prayer is a great mystery ; and his 
heart, in spite of himself, was filled with an unfamiliar emo- 
tion, that had in it more of earth than heaven. 

The door of the oratory was closed softly. In a moment a 
white-clad woman, carrying a light, came toward him through 
the darkness. He paused, a prey to the most violent pertur- 
bation he had ever experienced, and leaned against the wall. 
His strength left him, his limbs trembled convulsively, and 
in the silence that surrounded him the beating of his heart 


HANS OF ICELAND . 


45 


echoed loudly in his ears. As the young girl passed, she 
heard the rustle of a garment and the gasp of short and hur- 
ried breathing. 

“ Oh, heavens ! ” she cried. 

Ordener sprang forward. With one arm he supported her, 
and with the other sought vainly to catch the lamp, which 
fell from her grasp and was extinguished. 

“ It is I,” he said softly. 

“ It is Ordener ! ” said the young girl, for the echo of a 
voice which she had not heard for more than a year was still 
in her ears. A flash of moonlight lit up the joyful expression 
in her charming face. Then she recovered herself, in timidity 
and confusion, and slipped from the young man’s arms. 

“ It is Lord Ordener.” 

“ It is he, Countess Ethel.” 

“ Why do you call me countess ? 99 

“ Why do you call me Lord Ordener ? ” 

The young girl was silent, but she smiled. The young man 
held his peace, and sighed. She was the first to break the 
silence. 

“ How is it that you come here ? 99 

“ Pardon me, if my presence is disagreeable. I came to 
speak with the count, your father.” 

“ Ah,” said Ethel in a different tone, “ it was my father 
that you came to see.” 

The young man bent his head, for it seemed to him that 
such words were very unjust. 

“No doubt it is a good while,” the young girl continued in 
a reproachful tone, — “ no doubt it is a good while since you 
were at Drontheim. It is clear, however, that your absence 
from the castle has not seemed long to you.” Ordener, 
deeply wounded, made no reply. “ You are quite right,” 
the prisoner continued, in a voice trembling with grief and 
anger, “ but,” she added proudly, “ I hope, Lord Ordener, 
that you did not hear me at prayer?” 

“ Countess,” the young man at length replied, “ I did hear 


46 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


u Ah, Lord Ordener, it was not courteous to act the lis- 
tener’s part.” 

“ I did not listen, noble countess,” said Ordener weakly ; 
“ I overheard you.” 

u I prayed for my father,” the young girl went on, looking 
at him fixedly, as if awaiting a response to that very simple 
assertion. Ordener remained silent. “ I also prayed,” she 
continued uneasily, and watching attentively the effect of her 
words upon her companion, — “I also prayed for some one 
who bears your name, for the son of the viceroy, the Count of 
Guldenlew. We are commanded, you know, to pray for every 
one, even for our persecutors.” 

And then the young girl blushed, for she knew that she 
was speaking deceitfully. But she was annoyed at the young 
man’s behavior, and she thought that she had named him in 
her prayer, but she had named him only in her heart. 

“ Ordener Guldenlew is greatly to be pitied, noble lady, if 
you count him among your persecutors. He is very fortu- 
nate, however, to have a place in your prayers.” 

“ Oh, no,” said Ethel, troubled and alarmed at the young 
man’s coldness ; “ no, I was not praying for him. I know not 
what I did or what I am doing. As to the viceroy’s son, I 
detest him, and do not know him. Don’t look at me with 
such severity. Have I offended you ? Can you pardon 
nothing to a poor little prisoner, when you pass your time 
in the company of some beautiful and noble lady, who is as 
free and happy as yourself ? ” 

“ I, countess ! ” exclaimed Ordener. 

Ethel burst into tears ; the young man fell at her feet. 

“ Did you not tell me,” she went on, smiling through her 
tears, “ that your absence seemed short ? ” 

“ What, I, countess ? ” 

“ Don’t call me that,” she said softly. " I am no longer 
countess to anybody, and certainly not to you.” 

The young man rose quickly, and could not refrain from 
pressing her to his heart in convulsive ecstasy. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


47 


“ Ah, well, my adored Ethel, then call me Ordener. Tell 
me,” and he looked ardently into her tearful eyes, “tell me, 
do you really love me ? ” 

What the young girl said in reply was not audible ; for 
Ordener, quite carried away in his rapture, stopped her lips 
with a first kiss, that sacred token, which in the eyes of 
Heaven is the eternal seal of love. 

Neither spoke ; for they were in the presence of one of those 
solemn moments, so rare and brief on earth, when the soul 
seems to have a foretaste, as it were, of the felicity of para- 
dise. Mysterious moments these, when two souls are able to 
converse in a language intelligible only to themselves ! Then 
it is that merely human bonds count for nothing ; and two un- 
hampered spirits are joined in mystic communion, for this life 
and for the life to come, for this world and for eternity. 
Ethel drew slowly back from Ordener’s arms, and they looked 
at each other rapturously in the moonlight ; but the young 
man’s flashing eye spoke of manly pride and indomitable 
courage, while the young girl’s half-veiled glances were ex- 
pressive of that angelic modesty which in the heart of a pure 
woman is always mingled with the joys of love. 

“A moment ago, in the corridor here,” she said finally, 
“ you tried to avoid me, did you not, Ordener ? ” 

“ I was not trying to avoid you. I was like the unfortu- 
nate blind man, given his sight after long years, and who 
at first is dazzled by the light of day.” 

“ It is to me that your figure of speech would more prop- 
erly apply, for in your absence I have had no other boon 
than the companionship of my unfortunate father. I passed 
my days in consoling him and,” she added with down-falling 
lids, “in waiting for you. I read to my father the stories of 
the Edda; and when he declared his lack of faith in man, I 
read from the Gospels, that at least he might not lose faith in 
Heaven. Then, when I spoke to him of you, he was silent, 
which showed that he loved you. Only when I had fruit- 
lessly spent my afternoon, watching from afar the travellers 


48 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


come and go and the vessels entering the harbor, he would 
bow his head with a bitter smile, and I would fall a-weeping. 
This prison, where all my life has been enshrined till now, 
became hateful to me ; and yet my father, who until you came 
has been all in all to me, was still here. But you were not 
here, and I yearned for a liberty that I have never known.” 

An inexpressible charm, beyond the power of human words 
to convey, was expressed in the glances, the artless tender- 
ness, and sweet hesitancies of the young girl, as she uttered 
her confession. Ordener listened with the dreamy joy of one 
uplifted from the world of reality to a higher and better 
sphere. 

“ And as for me,” he said, “ I care for freedom no longer, 
unless you share it.” 

“ Do you mean to say, Ordener,” Ethel quickly interposed, 
“ that you will never leave us again ? ” 

The question reminded the young man of what he had 
forgotten. 

“ My own Ethel, I must leave you to-night. To-morrow I 
will return ; and to-morrow I shall leave you once more, until 
the time when I come back, never to leave you.” 

“ Alas,” the young girl responded mournfully, “ another 
absence ! ” 

“I repeat, my darling Ethel, that I shall soon return to 
take you away from this prison, or bury myself here with 
you.” 

“ Imprisoned with him ! ” she said softly. “ Ah, do not de- 
ceive me ; can I possibly hope for such happiness as that ? ” 

“ What oath shall I take ? What do you ask of me ? ” ex- 
claimed Ordener ; “ tell me, dear Ethel, are you not mine ? ” 
and in a transport of love he pressed her strongly to his breast. 

u I am yours,” she murmured faintly. 

The two noble and pure hearts beat thus in ecstasy 
against each other, and by this experience were made the 
nobler and more pure. 

At this moment a violent outburst of laughter echoed close 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


49 


beside them. A man, wrapped up in a cloak, uncovered a dark 
lantern which he was carrying, and let its light fall suddenly 
upon the alarmed and shrinking Ethel and the astounded and 
haughty face of Ordener. 

“ Bravo, my pretty çouple, bravo ! But it seems to me 
that after having travelled for so short a time in the country 
of Devotion, you have not followed all the windings of the 
stream of Sentiment, and that you must have taken a cross- 
road to get so quickly to the hamlet of Kiss.” 

Our readers have no doubt already recognized the lieuten- 
ant admirer of Mlle, de Scudéry. Torn from his reading of 
Clélie, by the midnight bell, — which the lovers had not 
heard, — he was making his nocturnal rounds of the donjon. 
In going by the eastern end of the corridor, he had heard 
voices, and seen two spectral forms moving about in the moon- 
lighted gallery. Then, being naturally both inquisitive and 
daring, he had concealed his lantern under his cloak, and ad- 
vanced on tiptoe upon the two phantoms, who had been dis- 
agreeably snatched from their ecstasy by his rude outburst of 
laughter. 

Ethel made a movement as if she were about to fly from 
Ordener, then, turning toward him as if by instinct and beg- 
ging for protection, she concealed her burning face against the 
young man’s breast. 

Ordener uplifted his head, with an expression of royal 
dignity. 

“ It shall go hard with him,” he said, “ who dares to 
frighten or trouble you, my darling Ethel ! ” 

“ Oh, yes, indeed,” said the lieutenant ; “ may it go hard 
with me if I have been so awkward as to alarm the charming 
Mandane.” 1 

“ Sir Lieutenant,” said Ordener in a haughty tone, “ you 
will be kind enough to keep silence.” 

“ Sir Insolent,” responded the officer, “ be kind enough to 
keep silence yourself.” 

1 Heroine of Mile. Scuclery’s romance, Cyrus the Great, 


50 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ Do you hear me ? ” continued Ordener, in a voice of 
thunder ; “silence alone will secure your pardon.” 

“ Tibi tua,” responded the lieutenant ; “ take your advice 
to yourself. Silence alone will secure your pardon.” 

“ Be silent ! ” shouted Ordener in tones that made the win- 
dows rattle ; and, placing the trembling young girl in one 
of the old arm-chairs that stood in the corridor, he shook the 
officer forcibly by the arm. 

“ Well, peasant,” said the lieutenant, half laughing, half 
angry ; “ perhaps you do not notice that this doublet you are 
handling so roughly is made of the finest Abington velvet.” 

“ Lieutenant,” said Ordener, looking at him sternly, “ my 
patience is shorter than my sword.” 

“ I understand you, my frisky young gallant,” said the lieu- 
tenant, with an ironical smile ; “no doubt you would be glad 
to have me do you such an honor, but do you know who I 
am ? No, no ; pray excuse me. ‘ Prince to prince, shepherd 
to shepherd/ in the words of the brave Leander.” 

“ If one were also to say coward to coward,” retorted Or- 
dener, “most assuredly I should not have the distinguished 
honor of measuring swords with you.” 

“ I should get angry, my worthy shepherd, if you but wore 
a uniform.” 

“ I wear neither gold lace nor epaulets, lieutenant ; but I 
wear a sword.” 

The proud youth, throwing back his cloak and donning his 
hat, seized his sword-hilt, when Ethel, aroused by the immi- 
nent danger, threw herself upon his arm and hung about his 
neck, with an utterance of alarm and supplication. 

“You do wisely, most charming lady, if you are dn^lous 
that this stripling here be not punished for his auffiSty,” 
said the lieutenant, who at Ordener’s threat had quietly put 
himself in guard. “For,” he added, “Cyrus was about to 
quarrel with Cambyses, — if I am not doing too much honor 
to this vassal in comparing him with Cambyses.” 

“In the name of Heaven, Lord Ordener,” said Ethel, “do 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


51 


not let me be the cause and the witness of such a misfor- 
tune ! ” Then, raising her beautiful eyes to his, she added, 
“ Ordener, I beg of you ! ” 

Ordener slowly thrust back the half-drawn blade into its 
scabbard, while the lieutenant exclaimed, — 

“ By my faith, chevalier, — I don’t know whether or not 
that is your actual title, but I give it to you, because you 
seem to be worthy of it, — let us, you and I, follow the laws 
of bravery and not those of gallantry. The young lady is 
right ; encounters like that I believe you to be worthy of 
entering into with me should not have feminine witnesses, 
in spite of the fact, if the charming young lady will pardon 
the observation, that they often have a feminine cause. We 
can therefore only conveniently consider here the ‘ duellum 
remotum ; ’ and if you, as the offended party, will fix upon the 
time, the place, and the weapons, my sharp Toledo blade or 
Merida dagger will exchange compliments with your cleaver, 
which doubtless came from the forges of Ashkreuth, or your 
hunting-knife, tempered in Sparbo’s Lake.” 

The “ postponed duel,” which the officer proposed to Or- 
dener, was much in fashion in the North, where, as wise men 
tell us, the custom of duelling originated. The most valiant 
gentlemen made and accepted challenges to the u duellum re- 
motum .” Sometimes it was put off for several months, some- 
times for several years, and during the intervening period the 
adversaries were required not to refer, either in speech or 
action, to the affair which had led to the challenge. Thus, if 
it were a question of love, the two rivals abstained from visit- 
ing their inamorata, in order that both might be on absolutely 
equal Serins. The loyalty of the contestants was as much 
depended upon in such affairs as it was in the ancient tourna- 
ments, when the judges, if they thought that the law of 
courtesy had been violated, threw their staff of office into 
the arena, and brought all the combatants to an instant pause ; 
but until the question was settled the throat of the vanquished 
might not be removed a hair’s breadth from the victor’s sword. 


52 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“Very well, chevalier,” said Ordener, after a moment’s 
thought. “ A messenger shall inform you of the place.” 

“ So be it,” responded the lieutenant ; “ that will be all the 
better, because it will give me time to attend my sister’s 
wedding, for you must know that you are to have the honor 
of fighting with the future brother-in-law of that most noble 
lord, the son of the viceroy of Norway, Baron Ordener Gul- 
denlew, and who, on the occasion of these illustrious nup- 
tials, — as Artamenes has it, — is to be made Count of 
Danneskiold, colonel and chevalier of the Order of the Ele- 
phant; and I myself, who am the son of the grand chancellor 
of the two kingdoms, shall doubtless be gazetted a captain.” 

“ Well, well, Lieutenant Ahlefeld,” said Ordener impa- 
tiently, “you are not a captain yet, nor is the viceroy’s son 
a colonel, — and swords are always swords.” 

“And boors are always boors, whatever effort one may 
make to lift them to one’s own level,” muttered the officer, 
between his teeth. 

“ Chevalier,” Ordener went on, “ you know the law of 
courtésy. You will come no more to this donjon, and you 
will keep silence about the affair.” 

“As to silence, you may depend upon it. I shall be as 
mute as was Mucius Scævola when he had his hand in the 
brazier. I will come no more to the donjon, neither I nor 
any of the garrison guard; for I have just received orders 
to leave Schumacker unguarded hereafter, — orders which I 
am commanded to make known to him to-night. I should 
have done so already, if I had not used up a large part of 
the evening in trying on some new Cracow boots. These 
orders, between ourselves, are very imprudent. Will you 
like to have me show you the boots ? ” 

While this conversation was taking place, Ethel, seeing 
their anger assuaged, and not understanding in the least the 
meaning of a “ duellum remotum ,” had disappeared, after 
whispering softly in Ordener’s ear, “ To-morrow ! ” 

“I shall be greatly obliged, Lieutenant Ahlefeld, if you 
will aid me in getting out of the fortress.” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


53 


“Willingly,” said the officer, “although it is a little late, 
or rather somewhat early. But how will you get a boat ? ” 

“ I’ll take care of that,” said Ordener. 

Then, conversing in a friendly way, they traversed the 
garden, the circular court, and the square courtyard ; and 
Ordener, being in the company of the officer of the guard, 
met nowhere with any detention. They crossed the portcul- 
lis, went along by the artillery shed, walked over the parade 
ground, and came to the low tower, where the iron gate was 
opened at the lieutenant’s command. 

“ Till we meet again, Lieutenant Ahlefeld,” said Ordener. 

“ Till we meet again,” replied the officer. “ I’m ready to 
declare that you are a brave champion; although I do not 
know your name, and cannot tell whether those of your 
peers who will attend you to the place of meeting will be of 
sufficient rank to be spoken of as seconds, or will be obliged 
to figure simply as witnesses.” 

They clasped hands, the iron gate was closed, and the 
lieutenant turned back, humming one of Lulli’s tunes, to his 
Polish boots and French novel. 

Left alone at the entrance, Ordener took off his clothes, 
wrapped them in his cloak, and tied them upon his head with 
his sword belt ; then, making a practical application of Schu- 
macker’s ideas of liberty, he sprang into the cold, still water, 
and began swimming in the darkness toward the shore, taking 
his course in the direction of the Spladgest, a destination 
which he was fairly sure of reaching, either dead or alive. 

The fatigues of the day had exhausted his strength, and he 
had a hard fight to make a landing. He dressed himself 
quickly, and walked 'toward the Spladgest, which stood forth 
darkly by the quay, for the moon had for some time been 
entirely concealed. 

As he drew near the building, he heard what seemed like a 
sound of voices, and a feeble light shonefforth from the upper 
opening. In astonishment he knocked loudly at the square 
door, when the noise ceased and the light disappeared. He 


54 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


knocked again ; and, the light shining forth once more) he saw 
something black come out of the upper orifice, and crouch 
down upon the flat roof of the structure. Ordener rapped a 
third time with the pommel of his sword, and called out, 
“ Open, in the name of his majesty, the king ! Open, in the 
name of his serene highness, the viceroy ! ” 

At length the door slowly opened, and Ordener was con- 
fronted with the long, pale, meagre face of Spiagudry, who, 
with disordered clothing, haggard eyes, and dishevelled hair, 
bore in his bloody hands a sepulchral lamp, the flame of 
which trembled less visibly than did his colossal frame. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


55 


CHAPTER VI. 

Pirro. Never! 

Angelo. What! I believe you’re posing in the garb of piety. Wretch, if 
you utter a single word — 

Pirro. But Angelo, for love of God, I conjure you — 

Angelo. Let alone what you cannot help. 

Pirro. Ah, when the devil holds one by a hair, one needs must give to 
him the whole head. Unhappy that I am ! 

Emilia Galotti. 

About an hour after the young, black-plumed traveller had 
emerged from the Spladgest, darkness having arrived and the 
crowd having taken its departure, Oglypiglap had closed the 
outer door of the gloomy building, while his master, Spiagudry, 
was washing for the last time the bodies that had been placed 
in his care. Then both had withdrawn into their far from 
sumptuously furnished apartments ; and while Oglypiglap 
slept on his wretched pallet, like one of the corpses confided 
to his keeping, old Spiagudry, sitting before a stone table, 
covered with musty books, dried plants, and polished bones, 
plunged into researches, which, although innocent enough in 
themselves, had contributed not a little to give him among 
the people a reputation for sorcery and diabolism, — such be- 
ing the deplorable attribute w r hich science was obliged to bear 
at that epoch. 

He had been for several hours absorbed in his meditations, 
and was about to quit his books for his bed, when his atten- 
tion was arrested by these sinister words in a copy of Thormo- 
dus Torfœus. 

‘ “ When a man lights his lamp, death will be in his house 
before it is extinguished.” 

“ With all due respect to the learned doctor,” he said in an 
undertone, “ it shall not be so in my house to-night.” And 
he took the lamp to blow out the flame. 


56 


II AN S OF ICELAND. 


“ Spiagudry ! ” called a voice from the room where the 
corpses were. 

The old man trembled from head to foot. It was not that 
he believed, as another might have done in his place, that the 
Spladgest’s melancholy wards were rebelling against their 
guardian. He was wise enough not to be affected by such 
imaginary terrors. His emotion was real, because he recog- 
nized only too well the voice that was calling him. 

“ Spiagudry ! ” the voice repeated loudly ; “ is it neces- 
sary, to make you hear, for me to come and tear your ears 
off?” • 

“ St. Hospitius have pity, not on my soul, but on my body ! ” 
exclaimed the old man in alarm; and, with dragging yet anx- 
ious footsteps, he went to the second side door and opened it. 
Our readers have not forgotten that this door gave entrance 
to the mortuary chamber. 

There the lamp which he bore lighted up a curiously hid- 
eous picture. On one side stood the thin, long, slightly 
inclined person of Spiagudry. On the other side a short, 
stout, thick-set man, clothed from head to foot in the skins 
of all kinds of animals still stained with dried blood, stood 
at the foot of Gill Stadt’s body, which, with the corpses of 
the young girl and the captain, lay in the background. The 
three mute witnesses, shrouded in gloomy shadow, were alone 
capable of looking without flying in terror upon the two liv- 
ing creatures now confronting one another. 

There was something peculiarly savage in the appearance 
of the smaller man, as the light fell strongly upon his face. 
His beard was red and shaggy ; and his head, covered with a 
moose-skin cap, seemed to bristle with hair of the same color. 
His mouth was large, his lips thick, his teeth white, pointed, 
and separated. His nose was bent like an eagle’s beak ; and 
his rolling gray-blue eyes darted at Spiagudry an oblique 
glance, in which the ferocity of the tiger was tempered by 
the malice of the ape. This singular person was armed with 
a large sword, a sheathless dagger, and a stone axe, upon the 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


57 


long handle of which he was leaning. His hands were cov- 
ered with big gloves of blue fox-skin. 

“ This old spook has kept me waiting a good long while,” 
he said to himself ; and then he gave forth a sort of roar like 
that of a wild beast. Spiagudry would certainly have turned 
pale in alarm if he had been capable of turning pale. 

“ Do you really know,” went on the little man, speaking to 
him directly, “ that I come from Urchtal sands? Do you 
keep me waiting because you would like to change your straw 
bed for one of these stone couches ? ” 

The spasms that shook Spiagudry increased, and the only 
two teeth that remained to him chattered violently. 

“ Pardon me, master,” he said, bringing the arch of his 
great body down to the little man’s level ; “ I was sleeping 
very soundly.” 

“ Perhaps you would like to sleep still more soundly ? ” 

Spiagudry had a look of terror, which on the whole was 
more joyful in appearance than his expression when he was 
trying to manifest mirth. 

“Well, what is it ?” the little man went on. “What’s the 
matter with you ? Do you find my presence disagreeable ? ” 

“ Oh, my lord and master,” responded the old keeper, “ I 
assure you nothing could give me greater happiness than the 
mere sight of your excellency.” And the effort which he 
made to give his alarmed countenance a gratified expression 
would almost have aroused the derision of the dead. 

“You old bob-tail fox, my excellency orders you to turn 
over Gill Stadt’s clothes to me.” As he spoke that name, 
the little man’s ferocious and cynical face was clouded with 
sadness. 

“ Oh, master, pardon me ; they are no longer here,” said 
Spiagudry. “Your grace knows that we are obliged to 
deliver everything a miner possesses to the royal treasury, 
because the king inherits by virtue of his protectorship.” 

“He is right,” said the little man, turning towards the 
corpse, folding his arms, and speaking in a melancholy tone. 


58 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ These miserable miners are like the eider-duck ; 1 their 
nests are made for them, and then they are robbed of their 
plumage.” 

Then, taking the corpse up in his arms, and clutching it to 
his breast, he uttered wild cries of love and grief, like the 
growling of a bear caressing its cub. With these inarticulate 
sounds were mingled at intervals words in an unknown 
tongue, which Spiagudry could not understand. 

He let the corpse fall back upon the stone, and turned 
towards the keeper. “ Cursed sorcerer, do you know the 
name of the ill-starred soldier who had the misfortune to 
supplant Gill in the favor of this girl ? ” He struck his foot 
against the frigid body of Guth Stersen, while Spiagudry 
shook his head. 

“Very well, then, by the axe of Ingolphus, chief of my 
race, I will exterminate all wdio wear that uniform ; ” and he 
pointed to the dead officer’s clothes. “ Among them all I 
shall find him on whom I seek to be avenged. I will burn 
down the whole forest to destroy the poisonous shrub which 
it conceals. I swore it on the day that Gill died, and I have 
already given him one companion that ought to give him 
pleasure. Oh, Gill, I see you before me, without strength or 
life, — - you who outdid the seal as a swimmer and the chamois 
on the hunt, and who fought with the bear in the Kole moun- 
tains and strangled him. Here you lie, motionless, you who 
traversed Drontheimhus from Orkel to Lake Smiasen in one 
day, and who ascended the peaks of Dofre-Field as a squirrel 
climbs an oak-tree. Voiceless you are, Gill, and yet on the 
stormy heights of Kongsberg you rivalled the thunder with 
your song. Oh, Gill, it is in vain that for you I flooded the 
mines of Faroe, and set fire to the cathedral church of Dront- 
heim. All my efforts go for naught ; and I shall never see the 
race of Iceland’s children, the descendants of Ingolphus, the 

1 The bird from which the eider-down is obtained. The Norwegian 
peasants make nests for them, and then catch them unawares and pluck 
them. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


59 


Exterminator, perpetuated through you. My stone axe will 
come never to your hands ; but you have left your skull to me, 
that I may henceforth drink from it sea- water and the blood 
of men.” As he spoke, he seized the corpse’s head. “ Spia- 
gudry,” he called, “ lend your aid ” ; and tearing off his gloves 
he showed his great hands, which were armed with long nails 
as hard and incurved as those of a wild beast. 

Spiagudry, seeing that he was about to sever the corpse’s 
neck with his knife, uttered a cry of irrepressible horror. 
“Just God, master, — a dead man!” 

“Well,” responded the little man tranquilly, “would you 
rather see this blade sharpened upon a living body ? ” 

“By St. Waldenmar, by St. Usuph, in the name of St. 
Hospitius, spare the dead ! ” 

“ Give aid, and talk not of saints to the devil.” 

“ My lord,” the supplicating Spiagudry went on, “ by your 
illustrious ancestor, St. Ingolphus ! ” 

“ Ingolphus the Exterminator was unsanctified, like me.” 

“ In the name of Heaven,” said the old man, falling upon 
his knees, “ ’tis from the lot of the unsanctified that I would 
save you.” 

The little man was seized with a frenzy of impatience. 
His cold gray eyes shot forth fire. 

“ Take hold ! ” he said, with a wave of his knife. The 
words were uttered as a lion would have uttered them if 
a lion could speak. The trembling, half-unconscious keeper 
bent over the black stone, and held Gill’s cold, damp head 
in his hands, while the little man, using both sword and 
knife, severed the neck with singular dexterity. 

The operation ended, he looked for a while at the bleeding 
skull, and spoke to it in words that the other could not 
understand ; then he gave it to Spiagudry to be cleaned and 
washed, roaring at him this speech, — 

“When I come to die, I shall not have the consolation of 
thinking that a descendant of Ingolphus will drink human 
blood and sea-water from my skull.” After a few moments 


60 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


of gloomy re very he spoke again : “ Storm follows storm, the 
avalanche brings the avalanche in its train, and I shall be 
the last of the race. Why did not Gill take pattern after me, 
and hate all who wear the human face ? What diabolical 
enemy was stronger than the demon of Ingolphus to force 
him into those deadly mines in the search for a little gold ? ” 

“Your excellency is right,” interrupted Spiagudry, as he 
held Gill’s skull ; “ gold, as Snorro Sturleson says, may some- 
times be bought too dear.” 

“You remind me,” said the little man, “of a commission 
with which I must entrust you. Here is an iron box that I 
found upon this officer, whom, as you see, you did not wholly 
despoil. It is so strongly fastened that it must contain gold, 
the only precious thing in human eyes. You will hand it to 
the widow Stadt at Thoctree hamlet, in compensation for the 
loss of her son.” 

He took a small iron box from a deer-skin wallet, and 
handed it to Spiagudry, who received it with a bow. 

“ Fulfil my orders faithfully,” said the little man, glancing 
sharply at him. “ Remember that nothing can keep two 
demons asunder. To my mind you are more of a coward 
than a miser, and I shall hold you responsible for this box.” 

“ Oh, master, upon my soul.” 

“No, not that; upon your bones and flesh.” 

At this moment the outer door of the Spladgest shook 
under a heavy blow. The little man looked up in surprise, 
while Spiagudry trembled, and put his hand in front of the 
lamp. 

“What is it? ’’asked the little man grumblingly. “And 
you, you old rascal, you tremble now ; what will you do when 
the judgment trumpet sounds ?” A second and heavier blow 
sounded forth. “’Tis some dead man, eager to get in,” said 
the speaker. 

“ No, master,” whispered Spiagudry ; “ the dead are never 
brought after midnight.” 

“Dead or alive, I’ll make way for him. Spiagudry, be 


HANS OF ICELAND 


61 


faithful and give no sign. I swear to you by the spirit of 
Ingolphus and the skull of Gill that you shall entertain the 
whole Munckholm regiment in your sepulchral tavern/’ 

And fastening Gill’s skull to his belt, and putting on his 
gloves, the little man sprang from Spiagudry’s shoulders with 
the ability of a chamois through the upper opening, and disap- 
peared. 

A third blow shook the Spladgest, and a voice without de- 
manded the opening of the door in the name of the king and 
of the viceroy. Then the old keeper, a victim to conflicting 
emotions, one inspired by memory and the other by hope, 
made his way to the square door, and swung it open. 


62 


IIANS OF ICELAND. 


CHAPTER VII. 

She wearied herself in vain pursuit, along rough and toilsome paths, of that 

joy which is the ending of all temporal felicity. — Confessions of St. 

Augustine. 

Returning to his study after leaving Poël, the governor of 
Drontheim sank into a large easy-chair, and to divert his mind 
called upon one of his secretaries to give an account of the 
petitions that had been presented to the government. The 
Secretary, after a respectful bow, began : — 

“ First, the Rev. Dr. Anglyvius requests the removal of 
the Rev. Dr. Eoxtipp, director of the Episcopal library, be- 
cause of his incapacity. The petitioner cannot say as to 
who should succeed the incapable incumbent; he can only 
suggest that he himself, Dr. Anglyvius, has long performed 
the duties of librarian ” — 

“ Send this rogue to the bishop,” the general broke in. 

“ Second, Athanasius Munder, priest and prison chaplain, 
begs for the pardon of twelve penitent convicts o‘n the occa- 
sion of the glorious nuptials of his high civility, Ordener 
Guldenlew, baron of Thorvick, chevalier of Dannebrog and 
son of the viceroy, with that noble lady, Ulrica of Ahlefeld, 
daughter of his grace the count, grand chancellor of the two 
kingdoms.” 

“ That will do,” said the general. “ I’m sorry for the 
convicts.” 

“ Third, Eaustus Prudens Destrombides, a Norwegian, sub- 
ject and Latin poet, requests the privilege of being permitted 
to write the epithalamium of the aforesaid noble betrothed.” 

“ Dear me, the worthy man must be getting rather old, for 
he is the same person who in 1674 composed an epithalamium 


HANS OF ICELAND . 


63 


for the projected marriage between Schumacker, then Count 
of Griffenfeld, and the Princess Louise Charlotte of Holstein- 
Augustenburg, — a marriage which did not take place. I 
fear,” the governor added to himself, “ that Faustus Prudens 
is the poet of unfulfilled nuptials. Put that petition by, and 
give me the next. It will be well to find out, for the benefit 
of the aforesaid poet, if there is not a vacant bed in Dront- 
lieim hospital.” 

“ Fourth, the miners of Guldbranshal, the Faroe Islands, 
Sund-Moër, Hubfallo, Rœrass, and Kongsberg, ask to be set 
free from the taxes due to royal guardianship.” 

“ Those miners are always uneasy. I hear that they are 
already beginning to find fault about the prolonged silence 
with which their request has been received. Let this be 
reserved for more mature deliberation.” 

“ Fifth, Braal, a fisherman, proclaims, by virtue of the 
Odelsrecht , 1 that he still maintains his intention of repur- 
chasing his patrimony. 

“ Sixth, the syndics of Noes, Loevig, Indal, Skongen, Stod, 
Sparbo, and other burroughs and villages of northern Dront- 
heimhus, request that a price be set upon the head of the 
brigand, assassin, and incendiary, known as Hans, and who 
is supposed to be a native of Klipstadur in Iceland. Nychol 
Orugix, executioner of Drontheimhus, opposes the petition, 
with the claim that Hans is his own property. The petition 
is supported by Benignus Spiagudry, keeper of the Spladgest, 
who claims right of reversion in the body.” 

“ This bandit is certainly a very dangerous fellow,” said 
the general, “ especially when there is any fear of trouble 
with the miners. Issue a proclamation setting the price of a 
thousand royal crowns upon his head.” 

“ Seventh, Benignus Spiagudry, physician, antiquary, sculp- 

1 The Odelsrecht is a peculiar law which resulted in a sort of majorat, — 
or succession to property according to age, — among the Norwegian peasan- 
try. Every man who might he obliged to give up his patrimony could pre- 
vent the purchaser from securing its alienation by giving notice to the 
authorities, every ten years, that he intended to repurchase. 


64 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


tor, mineralogist, naturalist, botanist, legist, chemist, machin- 
ist, physicist, astronomer, theologian, grammarian,” — 

“ There, there,” interposed the general, “ is not this the 
same Spiagudry who is keeper of the Spladgest ? ” 

“ The same man, your excellency,” responded the secretary, 
— “ keeper for his majesty of the establishment called the 
Spladgest, in the royal city of Drontheim, proclaims that he, 
Benignus Spiagudry, has discovered that the fixed stars are 
not lighted by the star called the sun ; item, that the true 
name of Odin is Frigga, son of Fridulph ; item, that the sea- 
worm lives on sand ; item, that the noise made by the people 
drives the fish away from the shores of Norway, so that the 
means of subsistence decrease proportionately with the in- 
crease in the population ; item, that the bay called Otte-Sund 
was formerly called Linfiord, and received the name Otte- 
Sund only after Otho the Red was thrown into it ; item, he 
further makes known that by his advice and under his direc- 
tion an old statue of Freya has been transformed into the 
statue of Justice, which adorns the grand square in Dront- 
heim, the lion which was under the idol’s feet having been 
made over into a devil, representing crime ; item ” — 

“ There, there, let us hear no more about his eminent ser- 
vices. Find out what he wants.” 

The secretary turned over several pages, and went on : 
“ The most humble petitioner begs to suggest that, in recom- 
pense for so many useful services to science and literature, 
your excellency will increase the tax upon every dead body, 
male and female, by ten ascalins, — a proceeding which can- 
not fail to be agreeable to the dead, since it will demonstrate 
the value placed upon their bodies.” 

Here the study door opened, and an usher announced in a 
loud voice, “ Her noble ladyship, the Countess of Ahlefeld.” 
At the same moment the countess entered, richly clothed in a 
scarlet satin robe trimmed with ermine and gold lace, and 
wearing her coronet on her head ; she took the hand which the 
general offered her, and seated herself close to his easy-chair. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


65 


The countess appeared to be about fifty years old, but her 
age could have had little to do with increasing the wrinkles 
that the demands of pride and ambition had for so long a 
time carved upon her face. She greeted the governor with 
a haughty look and a deceitful smile. 

“ Well, my lord general, your ward keeps us waiting. He 
ought to have been here before sundown.” 

“ He would be here, my dear countess, if upon his arrival 
he had not gone immediately to Munckholm.” 

“ What, to Munckholm ! I hope he has not gone in search 
of Schumacker ? ” 

“ It may possibly be so.” 

“ Baron Thorvick’s first visit to be made to Schumacker ! ” 

“ Why not, countess ? Schumacker is unhappy.” 

“ Can it be, general, that the viceroy’s son is in confidential 
relations with a state prisoner ? ” 

“When Frederic Guldenlew confided his son to my charge, 
countess, he besought me to bring him up as I would bring up 
a son of my own. It seemed to me that acquaintance with 
Schumacker would be useful to Ordener, who is destined some 
day to be as powerful as the other, so with the consent of the 
viceroy I got from my brother, Grummond de Knud, a permit 
for entrance to all the prisons. I have given it to Ordener, 
and he makes use of it.” 

“ And since w r hen, my lord general, has Baron Ordener 
made this beneficent acquaintance ? ” 

“ For a little more than a year, lady countess. It seems 
that Schumacker’s society is very agreeable, for it has detained 
him for a long time at Drontheim ; and it was only with re- 
luctance, and at my express commands, that he left last year 
for a tour of Norway.” 

« And does Schumaker know that his sympathetic compan- 
ion is the son of one of his greatest enemies ? ” 

“ He knows that he has found a friend, and that is sufficient 
for him, as it is for us.” 

“ But are you aware, my lord general,” said the countess, 


66 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


with an earnest look, — “ are you aware, in tolerating and in 
facilitating this friendship, that Schumacker has a daughter ? ” 

“ I have been quite aware of the fact, noble countess.” 

“ And this circumstance seemed to you to be of no conse- 
quence to your ward ? ” 

“ The ward of Levin de Knud and the son of Frederic 
Guldenlew is a man of honor. Ordener knows the barrier 
which separates him from Schumacker’s daughter; and he 
is incapable of doing wrong to any woman, and especially to 
the daughter of one in adversity.” 

The noble Countess of Ahlefeld reddened and grew pale, 
then turned away her face, seeking to evade the steady gaze 
of the old man, as if he were an accusing judge. 

“None the less,” she stammered, “the affair seems to me, 
if you will pardon me for saying so, general, most singu- 
lar and imprudent. It is said that the miners and common 
people in the North are threatening to revolt, and that 
Schumacker’s name is mixed up in the matter.” 

“My lady, you astonish me,” exclaimed the governor. 
“ Schumacker has up to this time endured his misfortune in 
perfect docility. The rumor is probably without foundation.” 

At this moment the door opened ; and the usher announced 
that a messenger from his grace, the grand chancellor, desired 
audience with the noble countess. The latter thereupon rose 
quickly, bowed to the governor, and while he went on examin- 
ing petitions, she hurried to her apartments in another wing of 
the palace, and commanded that the messenger be sent to her 
there. 

When the messenger appeared, she had been sitting for 
several moments on a richly upholstered sofa with her women 
about her. When her eyes fell upon the newcomer she made 
a gesture of repugnance, the effect of which she sought to 
destroy with a benevolent smile. There was nothing in the 
aspect of the messenger that at first glance would be likely to 
awaken repulsion. He was a man somewhat below medium 
stature, whose stoutness was rather out of keeping with his 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


67 


duties. When, however, his person was examined more closely, 
his expression was seen to be bold to the point of impudence, 
and his air of gayety gave the impression of something diabol- 
ical and sinister. He bowed low before the countess, and 
handed her a packet, sealed with silk thread. 

“ Noble lady,” he said, “ deign to permit me to dare to 
place at your feet a precious message from his grace, your 
illustrious husband and my venerated master.” 

“ Is he not coming himself ? ” the countess demanded ; 
“ and how is it that he chose you for his messenger ? ” 

“ Affairs of importance have forced his grace to postpone 
his visit ; and this letter, my lady countess, is to inform you 
what they are. As for me, I am, by order of my noble master, 
to have the distinguished honor of a private interview with 
you.” 

“ With me ! ” the countess exclaimed, in a trembling voice, 
and turning pale, — “I am to have an interview with you, 
Musdœmon ? ” 

“ If my noble lady is discommoded at the suggestion, her 
unworthy servant will succumb with despair.” 

“ Discommoded ? No, not in the least,” responded the 
countess, with a forced smile ; “ but is this interview neces- 
sary ? ” 

“ Absolutely necessary,” said the messenger, bowing to the 
floor. “ The letter, which the illustrious countess has deigned 
to receive from my hands, contains a formal order to that 
effect.” 

It was not a little remarkable to see the proud Countess of 
Ahlefeld tremble and turn pale before a servitor who ap- 
proached her with such profound respect. She opened the 
packet slowly and read the contents. After a second reading, 
she said to her women, in a low voice, — 

“ You may leave us alone.” 

“ Will the noble lady deign to pardon me,” said the mes- 
senger on bended knee, “ for the liberty that I have ventured 
to take, and the trouble I seem to be occasioning ? ” 


68 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ I beg you to believe, on tbe contrary,” responded the 
countess, with her forced smile, “that I take the greatest 
pleasure in receiving you.” The women left the room. 

“ Have you forgotten, Elphega, that there was once a time 
when the prospect of an interview with me was not at all 
repugnant to you ? ” 

This speech, addressed to the countess by the messenger, 
was accompanied by a laugh similar to that which the devil 
may be supposed to utter, when a compact has expired, and 
he makes his seizure of a soul that he has purchased. 

“ Ah, no, you may be sure I have not forgotten !” the 
noble countess murmured, bowing her head in humiliation. 

“Poor fool, why do you blush for things no human eye has 
ever seen ? ” 

“ If men do not see, God sees.” 

“ God, silly woman ; you are not worthy of having deceived 
your husband, for he is less credulous than you.” 

“It is not generous in you to make sport at my remorse, 
Musdœmon.” 

“Ah, well, Elphega, if you really feel remorse, why do 
you make sport of it yourself, from day to day, with new 
offences ? ” The Countess of Ahlefeld hid her face in her 
hands, and the messenger went on. “ Elphega, you are 
obliged to choose, either remorse and further crimes, or crime 
and no more remorse. Do as I do; choose the second and 
better part, the part that is at least the most agreeable.” 

“ I hope and pray,” said the countess in an undertone, 
“ that these words may not be brought up against you at 
the judgment!” 

“Well, well, my dear, let us talk seriously,” said Musdœ- 
mon, seating himself by the countess and putting his arms 
about her. “ Elphega,” he added, “ try to be, in spirit at 
least, what you were twenty years ago.” 

The unfortunate countess dared not assert herself against 
her accomplice, and tried to respond to his repulsive caress. 
There was in this adulterous embrace, of two creatures who 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


69 


mutually despised and loathed each other, something unspeak- 
ably revolting, even to their degraded souls. The unlawful 
caresses which had once been their joy, and which the ab- 
horrent force of custom compelled them to renew, were now 
a source of torture. It was a marvellous and just punish- 
ment that had come upon their guilty passion, — the crime 
itself had carried its own retribution. 

To shorten the remorseful torment to which she was sub- 
jected, the countess finally released herself from the arms of 
her odious lover, and asked him what oral message her hus- 
band had given to him. 

“ Ahlefeld, although he sees that his power is on the point 
of being firmly established by the marriage of Ordener 
Guldenlew with our daughter ” — 

“ Our daughter ! ” exclaimed the haughty countess, fixing 
upon Musdœmon an expression of pride and disdain. 

“ Oh, well,” said the messenger coldly, “ I suppose that 
Ulrica belongs to me, at least as much as she does to him. 
But I was saying that this marriage would not be wholly 
satisfactory to your husband, if Schumacker were not at the 
same time completely overthrown. Shut up in a prison, the 
old favorite is still almost as greatly to be feared as he was 
in his palace. The friends he has at court are humble, but 
they are powerful because of their obscurity, and the king, 
learning a month ago that no progress was being made in the 
grand chancellor's negotiations with the Duke of Holstein- 
Ploen, exclaimed impatiently, ‘ Griffenfeld knew more than 
all of them put together ! ’ A tricky fellow, named Dispol- 
sen, went from Munckholm to Copenhagen and had several 
private audiences, after which the king made a requisition on 
the chancellor’s office for Scliumacker’s patents of nobility 
and the records of his estates. No one knows what Schu- 
macker. is after ; but if he is only in quest of liberty, that 
for a state prisoner is equivalent to a return to power. It is 
necessary, then, that he should be put to death, and that in 
conformity with legal requirement. It is for us to devise a 


TO 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


crime of which he may bear the penalty. Your husband, 
Elphega, under the pretext of making a tour of inspection 
through the northern provinces incognito, is going to find 
out for himself the result of our plotting among the miners, 
among whom we are striving to stir up in Schumacker’s name 
an insurrection that can afterwards be easily suppressed. 

“The annoying thing just now is the loss of some impor- 
tant papers bearing upon this scheme, and which we have 
every reason to believe are in the possession of Dispolsen. 
When we learned that he had started on his return from 
Copenhagen to Munckholm, carrying Schumacker’s deeds and 
patents, and believing that he might also have with him 
other documents that might compromise us or defeat our 
purposes, we posted several henchmen in the Kole passes, 
with orders to make way with him, after getting his papers. 
But if it turns out, as we hear, that Dispolsen came from 
Bergen by water, all our pains 'rçûll go for naught. However, 
on my arrival here I heard an indefinite rumor that a captain 
named Dispolsen had been assassinated. We shall see. 
Meanwhile we are hunting for a notorious bandit, called Hans 
of Iceland, whom we wish to make the leader in the insurrec- 
tion at the mines. And you, my dear, what news have you 
to give me ? Has the pretty Munckholm bird been safely 
caged ? Has the old minister’s daughter at last become the 
prey of our f alcofulvus, our son Frederic ? ” 

Pride came once more to the support of the countess, and 
she exclaimed, “ Our son ! ” 

“ Let’s see ; how old is he now ? Twenty-four. It is 
twenty-six years since we first met, Elphega.” 

“ God knows,” exclaimed the countess, “ that my Frederic 
is the legitimate heir of the grand chancellor.” 

“ God may know it,” responded the messenger with a laugh, 
“ but the devil does not. However, your Frederic is a feather- 
brained dolt, whom I do not care to claim, so it’s not worth 
while for us to quarrel over so trifling a matter. All he’s good 
for is in trapping girls. Has he succeeded even at that ? ” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


71 


“Not that I am aware of.” 

“ See here, Elphega ; try to take a less passive interest in 
our affairs. The count’s part and mine are active enough, as 
you see. I shall return to your husband to-morrow ; as for 
you, don’t limit yourself, I beg of you, to praying for our sins, 
like the Italians, who invoke the Madonna when they are 
about to kill somebody. More than that, it is necessary that 
Ahlefeld should think of some way of rewarding me a little 
more lavishly than he has succeeded in doing hitherto. My 
fortune is united with yours ; but I’m tired of being the hus- 
band’s servitor when I am the wife’s lover, and of posing as 
tutor, preceptor, and pedagogue, when I am very near to 
being a father.” 

At this moment midnight sounded, and one of the women 
came in and reminded the countess that at this hour all lights 
must be extinguished, in accordance with palace rules. The 
countess, glad to put an end to so painful an interview, sum- 
moned her attendants. 

“ Will the gracious countess permit me,” said Musdoemon, 
in taking his leave, “ to retain the hope of seeing her again 
to-morrow, and of placing at her feet the evidences of my most 
profound respect ? ” * 


72 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

It cannot be that thou hast murdered him; 

So should a murderer look, so dread, so grim. 

Shakespeare: Midsummer Night's Dream. 

“ Upon my word, old man,” said Ordener to Spiagudry, “ I 
was beginning to think that the corpses lodged in this build- 
ing were intrusted with attending the door.” 

“ Pardon me, my lord,” responded the keeper, with the 
names king and viceroy still sounding in his ears, and repeat- 
ing the stupid excuse he had made before ; “I — I was sound 
asleep.” 

“ In that case your dead people must have been very much 
awake, for it was they, no doubt, that I heard just now talk- 
ing to one another.” 

“ You heard, my lord,” said Spiagudry in confusion, — “you 
heard ? ” 

“ Good heavens, yes ; but what does it matter ? I am not 
here to occupy myself with your affairs, but to have you 
occupy yourself with mine. Let us go inside.” 

Spiagudry was not at all desirous of taking the newcomer 
into the presence of Gill’s body, but his last words reassured 
him somewhat ; and in any case how could he refuse ? He 
allowed the young man to enter, and closing the door, said, — 

“ Benignus Spiagudry is at your service in everything that 
concerns human knowledge. If, however, as your nocturnal 
visit seems to indicate, you think you are talking with a sor- 
cerer, you are wrong. Ne famarn quidas. I am only a seeker. 
But let us go to my laboratory, my lord.” 

“ Not at all,” said Ordener ; “ it is with the dead bodies 
that we are concerned.” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


73 


“ With the bodies ! ” exclaimed Spiagudry, beginning to 
tremble again. “ But, my lord, you cannot see them.” 

“ What, I cannot see the bodies, which are put here only 
to be seen ? I tell you once more that I have some inquiries 
to make of you in regard to one of them, and it is your duty 
to answer them. Obey of your own free will, old man, or you 
shall obey against your will.” 

Spiagudry had a profound respect for a sword, and he saw 
one gleaming at Ordener’s side. 

“Nihil non arrogat armis,” he murmured; and fumbling 
with his bunch of keys, he opened the barrier gate, and let the 
stranger have access to the inner apartment. 

“ Show me the captain’s clothes,” said the newcomer. At 
this moment the lamplight fell on Gill Stadt’s dismembered 
body. “ Great heavens,” exclaimed Ordener, “ what abomi- 
nable profanation ! ” 

“ Great St. Hospitius, have mercy on me ! ” said the old 
keeper, under his breath. 

“ Old man,” Ordener went on in a menacing tone, “ are you 
so far from the tomb that you can violate the respect that is 
its due, and not have the fear, you miserable wretch, that the 
living will teach you what you owe to the dead ? ” 

“ Oh, mercy,” exclaimed the poor keeper ; “ it was not I ! 
If you knew ! ” He checked himself, for he remembered the 
little man’s injunction : “ Be faithful and give no sign.” Then 
he asked of the newcomer, in a husky voice, — 

“ Did you see anybody go out through the upper open- 
ing ? ” 

“ Yes. Was it your accomplice ? ” 

“ Ho ; it was the culprit, the only culprit, I swear it to you 
by all the anathemas of hell, by the benedictions of heaven, 
and by this body, which has been so shamefully profaned ! ” 
and he fell upon the stones at Ordener’s feet. Repulsive as 
was the appearance of Spiagudry, his despair and his protes- 
tations were so truthfully expressed that the young man was 
persuaded of his sincerity. 


74 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ Old man,” said Ordener, “ get up. If you have not dese- 
crated death, at least do not debase old age.” The keeper 
arose, and Ordener inquired, “ Who is the guilty one ? ” 

“ Oh, do not ask, my noble young lord. You do not know 
of whom you speak. Say no more ! ” and Spiagudry repeated 
to himself the words : “ Be faithful and give no sign.” 

“ But who is the guilty one ? I wish to know,” Ordener 
asked once more and coldly. 

“ In Heaven’s name, my lord, speak no more of this. Be 
silent for fear ” — 

“Fear cannot keep me silent, and it can make you speak.” 

“ Pardon me, pardon, my young master ! ” said the despair- 
ing Spiagudry ; “ I cannot tell you.” 

“ You can, for I desire that you should. Give me the name 
of the profaner.” 

Spiagudry still clung to evasion. “ Well, noble master, the 
profaner of this corpse was the one who killed the officer.” 

“ The officer was killed, then ? ” asked Ordener, reminded 
by this suggestion of the object he had in view. 

“ Yes, without any doubt, my lord.” 

“ And by whom ? By whom ? ” 

“ In the name of your patron saint, do not seek to know, 
my young master ; do not force me to reveal it.” 

“ If the interest that I had in knowing it needed to be in- 
tensified, you would add to it, old man, by stimulating my 
curiosity. I command you to tell me the murderer’s name.” 

“ Well,” said Spiagudry, “ take note of those deep gashes 
made with long, sharp nails upon the unhappy body. They 
will tell you who the assassin was.” And the old man pointed 
out the long, deep scratches upon the naked and cleansed 
body. 

“ What,” said Ordener, “ was it some wild beast ? ” 

“ No, my young master.” 

“But if it were not the devil” — 

“ Hush, have a care that you do not guess too well. Have 
you never heard,” the keeper went on, in a low voice, “ of a 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


75 


man, or a monster with human face, with nails as long as 
those of our destroyer, Ashtaroth, or of the Antichrist who 
holds our future doom ? ” 

“ Speak more to the point.” 

“ Woe, says the Apocalypse ” — 

“ I ask you for the murderer’s name.” 

“ The murderer’s name ? My lord, have pity on me ; have 
pity on yourself.” 

“ That last plea of yours would destroy the first, even if 
the most serious motives did not oblige me to tear the name 
from you. Do not abuse my patience longer.” 

“Very well, young man, since you will have it,” said Spia- 
gudry, standing upright and speaking in a loud voice ; “ the 
murderer and profaner is Hans of Iceland.” 

The portentous title was not unknown to Ordener. “ What,” 
he said, “ Hans, that execrable bandit ? ” 

“ Do not call him bandit, for he lives alone.” 

“ Then, miserable wretch, how is it that you know him ? 
What crimes in common have brought you two together ? ” 

“Oh, noble master, do not be influenced by appearances. 
Is the oak-tree’s trunk poisonous, because the serpent has its 
shelter there ? ” 

“No more trifling words ! A villain’s friend must be, an 
accomplice.” 

“ I am not his friend, and much less his accomplice ; and if, 
my lord, my oaths have not persuaded you, have the goodness 
to observe that this detestable profanation will expose me, in 
the course of twenty-four hours, when they come to take Gill 
Stadt’s body away, to the penalty for sacrilege, and that I am 
for this reason plunged into the most frightful disquietude 
that an innocent man can be called upon to endure.” 

This avowal of personal interest did more to convince 
Ordener than the supplicating tones of the poor keeper, because 
it was probably the chief cause oh his pathetic, though useless, 
resistance to the little man’s horrible act. Ordener thought 
the matter over for a moment, and meanwhile Spiagudry tried 


76 


IIANS OF ICELAND. 


to learn from his expression whether the result was likely to 
be for peace or war. At last Ordener said, in a stern, judicial 
tone, — 

“ Old man, tell the truth. Did you find any papers on that 
officer ? ” 

“ None, upon my honor. ” 

“ Do you know if Hans of Iceland found any ? ” 

“ I swear to you, by St. Hospitius, that I do not.” 

“ You do not know ? Are you aware where Hans of Ice- 
land hides himself ? ” 

“ He is never in hiding ; he is always on the move.” 

“ That may be, but what places does he frequent ? ” 

“ The pagan has as many lairs as Hitterin island has reefs, 
or Sirius rays of light,” responded the old man in a low voice. 

“ Once more, I command you,” Ordener interposed, “ to 
speak without evasion. I will set the example, therefore 
listen. You are in some mysterious way involved with a bri- 
gand, and you declare that you were not his accomplice. Since 
you know him, you must be aware of his present hiding-place. 
Do not interrupt me. If you are not his accomplice, you will 
not hesitate to take me where he is.” 

Spiagudry could not contain himself for fright. . “ You, my 
noble lord ; you, — great God, — you, so full of youth and life, 
to seek out and provoke the wrath of that demon ! When 
four-armed Ingiald fought with Niktolm, the giant, he at least 
had four arms.” 

“ Well,” said Ordener smilingly, “ if four arms are needed, 
are you not to be my guide ? ” 

I, your guide ! How can you make such sport of a poor 
old man, who has need enough of a guide for himself ? ” 

“ Listen,” responded Ordener ; “ do not try to make sport 
with me. If this profanation, of which I am willing to believe 
you innocent, exposes you to the penalty for sacrilege, you 
cannot stay here, — you must therefore fly. I offer you pro- 
tection, but on condition that you take me to the brigand’s 
retreat. Be my guide, and I will be your protector. 1 will 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


77 


do more ; if I get hold of Hans of Iceland, I will bring him 
here, dead or alive. You will be able to prove your innocence, 
and I promise that you shall be reinstated in your employ- 
ment. In the meantime, here are more royal crowns than the 
place can bring you in a whole year.” 

By reserving his purse until the last, Ordener had followed 
the exact and profitable laws of logic in making his argument. 
His first suggestion, however, had been strong enough to make 
Spiagudry thoughtful. He began by taking the money. 

“ Noble master, you are right,” he said at length, bringing 
his erstwhile wandering glance to bear upon him. “ If I ac- 
company you, I run the risk of Hans’s frightful vengeance. If 
I remain, I shall fall to-morrow into the hands of Orugix, the 
executioner. What is the punishment for sacrilege ? Never 
mind. In either case, my poor life is in peril ; but in accord- 
ance with the wise utterance of Saemond Sigfusson, otherwise 
called the Sage, Inter duo pericula cequalia minus , imminens 
eligendum est , and I go with you. Yes, my lord, I will be 
your guide. Be kind enough to bear in mind, however, that I 
have done all that I possibly could to turn you aside from 
your adventurous mission.” 

“ Very well,” said Ordener. “ You will be my guide. Old 
man,” he added, with a searching look, “ I shall count upon 
your loyalty.” 

“ Ah, master,” responded the keeper, “ Spiagudry’s faith 
is as unstained as the gold you but just now so graciously gave 
to me.” 

“ Let it continue to be so, for in default of that I shall 
prove to you that steel is in some cases no less effectual than 
gold. Where do you think Hans of Iceland to be ? ” 

“ Well, as southern Drontheimus is full of troops, sent there 
for some unknown purpose by the grand chancellor, Hans has 
probably made for Walderhog grotto or Lake Smiasen. Our 
route is by way of Skongen.” 

“ How soon can we start ? ” 

“ When this day that is just dawning is ended, and the 


78 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


Spladgest shall be closed *f or the night, your humble servant 
will assume the duties of a guide, and give over his ministry 
tions to the dead. We must find some means of concealing 
the mutilation of the miner’s body from the eyes of the people 
while the day is passing.” 

“ Where shall I find you to-night ? ” 

“ In the public square, if agreeable to you, my master, close 
by the statute of Justice, once the statue of Freya, who per- 
haps will protect me by her shadow, in acknowledgment of 
the fine devil that I had carved under her feet.” 

Spiagudry would probably have gone on rehearsing the items 
in his petition to the governor, if Ordener had not interrupted. 

“ That will do, old man ; it is a bargain.” 

“ It’s a bargain,” repeated the keeper. 

As he spoke these words, a rumbling noise seemed to come 
from above their heads. The keeper shuddered. 

“ What was that ? ” he said. 

“ Does no one else live here with you ? ” asked Ordener, 
equally surprised. 

“ Why, yes, my assistant, Oglypiglap,” responded Spiagu- 
dry, reassured at the thought ; “ no doubt ’tis he snoring. 
According to Bishop Arngrim, a Laplander asleep makes as 
much noise as a woman when she is awake.” 

While they were talking, they moved towards the Splad- 
gest’ s outer door. Spiagudry opened it softly. 

“ Farewell, my young lord,” he said to Ordener ; “ may 
heaven be gracious to you. To-night we meet again ; and if 
meantime your pathway takes you by St. Hospitius’ cross, 
deign to utter a prayer for your humble servitor, Benignus 
Spiagudry.” 

Then, quickly closing the door, as much from fear of being 
seen as to guard his lamp from the early morning breeze, he 
went back to Gill’s body, and busied himself with arranging 
it in such a way as to hide the mutilation. 

More reasons than one had induced the timid keeper to 
accept the stranger’s venturesome offer. First among the 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


79 


motives that led to his reckless decision was the fear inspired 
by Ordener ; second, dread of Orugix, the executioner ; third, 
a deep-lying hatred for Hans of Iceland, a hatred that he 
hardly dared confess to himself, so great was the terror that 
the man inspired ; fourth, devotion to science, for which the 
journey would afford opportunity; fifth, confidence in his own 
shrewdness and his ability to take Hans unawares ; sixth, a 
speculative attraction toward a certain metal that lay in the 
young adventurer’s purse, and which it seemed to fill as com- 
fortably as it did the iron box, stolen from the captain and 
destined for the widow Stadt, — a destiny which was now in 
great peril of never being fulfilled. 

A final inducement was the hope, well or ill founded, of 
sooner or later recovering the position he was about to aban- 
don. What difference did it make to him, whether the brigand 
killed the traveller, or the traveller the brigand ? At this 
stage of his meditation he was so careless as to speak his 
thoughts aloud, — 

“ Either way, it would be another body.” 

Once more the rumbling sounded overhead, and the wretched 
keeper trembled. 

“ That’s none of Oglypiglap’s snoring,” he said ; “ that 
noise comes from outside.” Then, after a moment’s thought, 
he added, “ I’m very foolish to alarm myself in this way ; no 
doubt ’tis some dog along the harbor front.” 

Then he went on arranging Gill’s disfigured body ; and this 
accomplished, he fastened all the doors and went to his cot, to 
rest himself from the fatigues of the night just ended, and 
to renew his strength for the night that was to follow. 


80 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


CHAPTER IX. 

Juliet. Oh, think’st thou we shall ever meet again? 

Romeo. I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve 
For sweet discourses in our time to come. 

Shakespeare. 

Munckholm beacon had been extinguished, and in its place 
the sailor coming up Drontheim bay could see the sentinel’s 
helmet gleaming like a moving star in the rays of the rising 
sun, when Schumacker, according to his custom, descended 
into the circular garden surrounding his prison, leaning upon 
his daughter’s arm. Both had passed a fatiguing night, — the 
old man through lack of sleep, and the young girl because of 
the blissful torment of thick-clustering dreams. They walked 
back and forth for some time in silence, when the old pris- 
oner, fixing a sad and serious look upon the beautiful girl at 
his side, said, - — 

“ You blush and smile and say nothing, Ethel. You are 
happy, for you have no need to blush for what is past, and 
you smile at the future.” 

Ethel blushed more than ever, and smiled no longer. “ My 
lord and father,” she said, in embarrassment and confusion, 
“ I have brought the Edda.” 

“Very well, my daughter, you may read,” said Schumacker, 
and he fell again into reverie. 

Sitting upon a blackened rock, shaded by a sombre fir-tree, 
the gloomy captive heard his daughter’s musical voice, taking 
no note of what she read, as a thirsty traveller drinks from a 
stream and is refreshed by its murmur. 

Ethel was reading the story of Allanga, the shepherdess, 
who refused the wooing of a king until he had proved himself 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


81 


to be a warrior. Prince Regner Lodbrog could not obtain his 
shepherdess until he came back as the victor over Ingolphus, 
the Exterminator, the brigand of Klipstadur. 

At this point the reading was suddenly interrupted by the 
sound of footsteps and rustling leaves, and Schumacker was 
aroused from his meditation. Lieutenant Ahlefeld emerged 
from behind the rock where they were sitting. Ethel hung 
her head as she recognized the persistent intruder, and the 
officer exclaimed, — 

“ Upon my word, fair maiden, your charming mouth but 
now pronounced the name of Ingolphus, the Exterminator. I 
overheard it, and I suppose that it was in speaking of his de- 
scendant, Hans of Iceland, that you were led back to him. 
Young ladies always like to talk about brigands, and, while on 
this subject, let me add that peculiarly thrilling and delight- 
ful stories are told about this Ingolphus and his descendant. 
Ingolphus, the Exterminator, had only one son, born to a sor- 
ceress, Thoarka. This son also had but one son, and he, too, 
was born of a sorceress. Through four centuries the race has 
been perpetuated for the desolation of Iceland, and always 
through a single branch. Through this series of unique in- 
heritors, the infernal spirit of Ingolphus has been brought 
down in all its pristine vigor to our own days, in the famous 
Hans of Iceland, who doubtless was just now so fortunate as 
to occupy this young lady’s virginal thoughts.” 

The officer paused for a moment. Ethel was silent and 
embarrassed. Schumacker looked bored. Delighted to find 
them disposed to listen, if not to respond, he went on, — 

“ The Klipstadur brigand has but one passion, and that is 
hatred of the human race, — no other aim, except to kill.” 

“ He is a wise man,” Schumacker interrupted brusquely. 

“ He always lives alone,” continued the lieutenant. 

“ He must be happy,” said Schumacker. 

The lieutenant was in ecstasy at this repeated interruption, 
which seemed to put the seal of approval upon his efforts at 
conversation. 


82 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ May the god Mithra perserve us from such wisdom and 
such happiness ! ” he exclaimed. “ Cursed be the malignant 
zephyr that brought the last of the Iceland demons to Nor- 
way. I was wrong to say malignant, for I am assured that 
we are indebted to a bishop for Hans of Klipstadur. If we 
are to believe tradition, some Icelandic peasants seized little 
Hans when he was yet a child, among the Bessestedt moun- 
tains, and were about to kill him, as Astyages killed the lion’s 
cub in Bactriana ; but the Bishop of Skalholt interposed, and 
took the whelp under his protection, hoping that he might be 
able to Christianize a devil. The good bishop made use of 
every imaginable means for developing his infernal intellect, 
regardless of the fact that a hemlock cannot be changed into 
a lily by being transplanted into the hothouses of Babylon. 

“ The young demon rewarded the bishop for his trouble by 
escaping across the sea one night, astride of a tree-trunk, after 
setting lire to the Episcopal manor-house to light him on his 
way. That, according to the old women around here, is the 
way this Icelander got to Norway, and, thanks to his fine edu- 
cation, he is to-day an ideal monster. Ever since he came over, 
the presence of this Ahrimanes incarnate has been made known 
in Drontheimhus. The Faroe mines have been flooded, and 
three hundred workmen crushed in the ruins. The hanging 
rock at Golyn fell in the night on the village underneath. The 
Half-Broen bridge broke from the cliffs under the people who 
were passing over it. The cathedral at Drontheim has been 
burned. The coast signals have been extinguished on stormy 
nights, and a host of murders and other crimes lie concealed 
in Lakes Sparbo and Smiasen, the caves of Walderhog and 
Bylass, and in Dofre-Field passes. The old women claim 
that a new hair comes in his beard for every crime. In that 
case his beard must be as big as that of a venerable Assyrian 
Magus. The charming young lady is probably aware that the 
governor several times tried to stop this marvellous beard 
from growing.” 

Schumacker broke the silence that followed. “ And all 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


83 


efforts to capture this man,” he said, with an air of triumph 
and an ironical smile, “ have been in vain ? I congratulate 
the grand chancellor’s office.” 

The lieutenant did not understand the ex grand chancellor’s 
sarcasm. 

“ Hans has up to this time been as indomitable as Horatius, 
surnamed Codes. Old soldiers, young militiamen, country- 
men, and mountaineers are done to death or fly before him. 
He is a demon who can be neither evaded nor caught. The 
best thing that can happen to those who go in search of him 
is not to find him at all. 

“The gracious young lady will perhaps be surprised,” he 
went on, seating himself familiarly by Ethel, who had drawn 
near her father, “ at the various strange and touching facts I 
know of in regard to this supernatural creature. It is not 
without intention that I have made a collection of these ex- 
traordinary traditions. It seems to me, — and I shall be de- 
lighted if the charming young lady agrees with my opinion, — 
that Hans’s adventures could be made into a delicious romance, 
after the manner of those matchless writings of Mlle. Scudéry, 
Artamene or Clélie , of which I have only read six volumes, 
but which is none the less in my eyes a masterpiece. 

“It would be necessary, of course, to ameliorate our cli- 
mate, polish up our traditions, and modify our barbarous 
names. Thus Drontheim, transformed into Durtinianum, 
would have its forests changed under my magic wand into 
charming groves, traversed by a thousand bubbling brooks, 
that would be much more poetical than our rude torrents. 
Our deep and gloomy caverns would give place to exquisite 
grottos, carpeted with moss-covered stones and azure shells. 
In one of the grottos would dwell the famous enchanter, 
Hannus of Thule, for you will agree that the name Hans of 
Iceland is not particularly acceptable to the ear. This giant 
— you realize how absurd it would be for the hero of such a 
tale not to be a giant — would be descended in the direct line 
from- Mars, the god of war, — Ingolphus makes no appeal to 


84 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


the imagination, — from Mars and Theonne, the sorceress, — 
is not that a delightful substitute for the name Thoarka ? — 
daughter of the Cumæan sybil. Hannus, being brought up 
by the grand Magus of Thule, would make his escape from 
the pontifical palace in a chariot drawn by two dragons, for it 
would be a poor display of fancy to cling to that commonplace 
tradition about the tree-trunk. Reaching the shores of Dur- 
tinianum, and entranced by the beauty of the country, he 
would make it his dwelling-place, and the arena of his crimes. 

“ 5 T would not be altogether easy to get up an agreeable 
picture of Hans’s brigandly exploits ; the horror of them 
would have to be toned down by the aid of some ingeniously 
contrived love affair. Alcippe, the shepherdess, guarding her 
flock in a grove of myrtle and olive trees, would be seen by 
the giant, who would immediately succumb to a glance from 
her eyes. But Alcippe would be in love with the handsome 
Lysidas, a militia officer quartered in her village. The giant 
would be greatly wrought up over the officer’s good fortune ; 
and the officer, at the giant’s attentions. You will understand, 
gracious young lady, how much charm a fertile imagination 
would be able to give to Hannus’s adventures. T would be 
willing to wager my Cracow boots against a pair of pattens 
that such a theme, dealt with by Mlle. Scudéry, would inspire 
all the ladies of Copenhagen with rapture.” 

Schumacker aroused himself from the sombre reverie into 
which he had fallen during the lieutenant’s ineffective display 
of wit. 

“ Copenhagen ? ” he said abruptly ; “ what is there new at 
Copenhagen, sir officer ? ” 

“ Nothing, upon my word, that I am aware of,” responded 
the lieutenant ; “ except that the king has given his consent 
to an important marriage, which is now discussed throughout 
the two kingdoms.” 

“ How is that ? ” responded Schumacker ; “ what mar- 
riage ? ” 

The reply upon the lieutenant’s lips was checked by the 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


85 


appearance of a fourth person. All three raised their eyes. 
The prisoner’s sombre face brightened, the lieutenant’s frivo- 
lous countenance became serious, and Ethel’s charming fea- 
tures lost the pallor they had manifested during the officer’s 
long soliloquy, and betrayed a joyful animation. The girl 
breathed deeply, as if her heart had been relieved from an 
insupportable burden, and she looked at the newcomer with 
a shy and wistful smile. It was Ordener. 

The old man, the young girl, and the officer were in a pecu- 
liar situation with regard to Ordener, for each of them had 
a secret understanding with him, and in consequence each 
of them found the presence of the others unwelcome. That 
Ordener had returned to the donjon was not surprising, either 
to Schumacker or Ethel, for they expected him ; but it aston- 
ished the lieutenant, as much as the lieutenant’s presence 
astonished Ordener, who might have feared some indiscretion 
on the part of the officer in regard to the events of the pre- 
ceding night, if the injunction to silence prescribed by the 
law of courtesy had not reassured him. He could only marvel, 
then, at seeing his adversary settled so peaceably with the two 
prisoners. 

These four people could say nothing to each other while 
they were together, because they had so much to say to one 
another in a confidential way. The consequence was that the 
only welcome extended to Ordener was expressed in expectant 
and embarrassed glances. 

“By the hem of the royal mantle, my dear newcomer,” 
the lieutenant exclaimed, with an outburst of laughter, “ this 
silence is something like that of the Gallic senators when 
Brennus, the Homan — I don’t know, on my honor, which was 
Homan and which Gallic, the senators or the general. But 
never mind, since you are here, help me to regale our honor- 
able friend here with the news. I was just on the point, 
when you came in, of giving some information concerning 
the illustrious marriage, which is just now receiving so much 
attention from the Medes and Persians.” 


86 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ What marriage ? ” asked Ordener and Schumacker, both 
together. 

“ By the cut of your garments, sir stranger,” the lieutenant 
exclaimed, clapping his hands, “ I had already decided that 
you came from some other world. The question you now 
ask changes suspicion to certainty. You must have landed 
yesterday on the banks of the Nidder, in a fairy chariot 
drawn by two winged dragons ; for you could not have trav- 
elled through Norway without hearing of the celebrated mar- 
riage between the viceroy’s son and the grand chancellor’s 
daughter.” 

“What,” said Schumacker, turning towards the lieutenant, 
“ Ordener Guldenlew is to marry Ulrica Ahlefeld ? ” 

“ Precisely so,” responded the officer, “ and the affair will 
be concluded before the latest French fashion in farthingales 
gets to Copenhagen.” 

“Frederic’s son must be about twenty-two, for I had been 
a year in Copenhagen fortress when I heard of the great 
festivities over his birth. Let him marry young,” Schu- 
macker went on, with a bitter smile ; “ when the hour of 
disgrace comes upon him he will not be thought the less of 
for having aspired to a cardinal’s hat.” The old courtier 
was making an allusion to his own misfortunes, which the 
lieutenant did not comprehend. 

“ Not at all,” he said, with an outburst of laughter. “ Baron 
Ordener will receive the title of count, the badge of the Ele- 
phant, and a colonel’s epaulets, none of which will harmonize 
very well with a cardinal’s biretta.” 

“ So much the better,” responded Schumacker ; and after a 
moment’s pause he added, shaking his head, as if the day of 
vengeance were before him, “the time perhaps will come 
when they will use his collar of nobility to throttle him with, 
break his count’s coronet upon his forehead, and slap his 
epaulets in his face.” 

Ordener seized the old man’s hand. “ Your hatred would 
be more worthily bestowed, if you would not curse the good 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


87 


fortune of your enemy until you know what value he himself 
may put upon it.” 

“Ah, well,” said the lieutenant, “what matters to Baron 
Thorvick this good man’s maledictions ? ” 

“ Lieutenant,” exclaimed Ordener, “ they matter more to 
him than you can think, perhaps ; and,” he went on, after 
a moment’s silence, “your much-talked-of marriage is less a 
certainty than you believe.” 

“ Fiat quod ’vis,” retorted the lieutenant, with an ironical 
bow ; “ it is true that the king, the viceroy, and the grand 
chancellor are all favorable to the nuptials ; they are doing 
everything to make the affair a success ; but if it does not meet 
with the approval of my lord the stranger, what matter the 
wishes of the grand chancellor, the viceroy, and the king ? ” 

“Perhaps you are right,” said Ordener gravely. 

“ Oh, on my word,” and the lieutenant fell backward in his 
mirth, “ this is too amusing. I would give anything to have 
Baron Thorvick here, that he might see his destiny decided 
by such an omniscient oracle. Take my word for it, august 
prophet, your beard is not thick enough yet to allow you to 
pass as a sorcerer.” 

“ Lieutenant,” Ordener replied coldly, “ I do not think that 
Ordener Guldenlew would marry any woman whom he did not 
love.” 

“ Dear me, what a book of maxims ! And who told you, 
my lord of the green cloak, that the baron is not in love with 
Ulrica Ahlefeld ? ” 

“ And tell me, if you please, in your turn, who has told you 
that he is in love with her ? ” 

As often happens in the ardor of conversation, the lieuten- 
ant was led on to affirm as true something that he was not 
sure of. 

“ Who told me that he loves her ? That is a droll ques- 
tion ! Your faculties for divination seem to have deserted 
you. Why, all the world knows that this marriage is as much 
a love affair as it is a matter of policy.” 


88 


U AN S OF ICELAND. 


“When you say all the world, you may except me,” said 
Ordiner seriously. 

“Very well, except you; but what of that? You can’t 
prevent the viceroy’s son from being in love with the chan- 
cellor’s daughter.” 

“ In love ? ” 

“ Madly in love ! ” 

“ He must indeed be mad, to be in love with her.” 

“See here, just bear in mind of whom you are speaking. 
Might not one think that the viceroy’s son would be free to 
bestow his affections where he wished, without consulting 
this clodhopper.” 

Saying this the officer got up. Ethel, seeing the flush of 
anger in Ordener’s face, stepped in front of him. 

“ Oh,” she said, “ for pity’s sake be calm, and pay no atten- 
tion to his insults. What is it to you, if the viceroy’s son is 
in love with the chancellor’s daughter ? ” 

This gentle appeal touched the young man’s heart, and 
calmed the rising tempest. He bent an enraptured look upon 
Ethel, and ignored the lieutenant, who recovered his spirits, 
and exclaimed, — 

“The young lady shows infinite grace in playing the part 
of the Sabine women between their fathers and their hus- 
bands. My words were inconsiderate. I forgot,” he went 
on, addressing himself to Ordener, “that there is a bond of 
fraternity between us, and that we must not provoke one 
another. Chevalier, give me your hand. Acknowledge that 
you also forgot that in speaking of the viceroy’s son you were 
addressing his future brother-in-law, Lieutenant Ahlefeld.” 

At the utterance of this name, Schumacker, who up to that 
time had been an indifferent or impatient auditor, sprang 
from his stone seat with a frightful cry. 

“ Ahlefeld ! An Ahlefeld here before me ! Serpent, how 
is it that I have not recognized the execrable father in the 
son ? Leave me at peace in my dungeon ; I was not con- 
demned to the punishment of looking upon you. All that is 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


89 


lacking now is, what some one just now wished, that I should 
see Guldenlew’s son standing by Ahlefeld’s ! Traitors and 
cowards, why do they not come themselves to get their joy of 
my tears of rage and madness ? Detestable brood ! Son of 
Ahlefeld, leave me ! ” 

The officer was at first stunned by the ardor of these impre- 
cations, but he soon broke forth in angry speech. 

“ Silence, you old idiot ! Have you so soon got done with 
chanting your diabolical litany ? ” 

“ Leave, leave me ! ” continued the old man, “ and carry my 
curse with you, — for you and the wretched race of Gulden- 
lew, that is to be allied with yours.” 

“ By heavens,” the officer exclaimed furiously, “you heap a 
double insult on me ! ” 

Ordener checked the lieutenant, who was quite beside him- 
self. “Respect old age in your enemy, lieutenant. We 
already have one affair to settle between us. I will be re- 
sponsible for any offence you may find in what the prisoner 
has said.” 

“ So be it,” said the lieutenant ; “ you are taking upon your- 
self a twofold obligation. It will be a fight to the last gasp, 
for I have to exact vengeance for my brother-in-law and my- 
self. Bear in mind, that when you pick up my glove, you 
pick up also Ordener Guldenlew’s.” 

“ Lieutenant Ahlefeld,” responded Ordener, “ you take the 
part of the absent with an ardor which is a proof of your gen- 
erosity of mind. Can you not find it in your heart to be 
merciful to an unhappy old man, whom adversity has in some 
degree given the right to be unjust ? ” 

Ahlefeld was one of those whose virtues blossom in the 
light of praise. He pressed Ordener’s hand, and drew near to 
Schumacker, who in the exhaustion caused by his explosions 
of wrath had fallen back on the stone, and into the arms of 
the tearful Ethel. 

“ My lord Schumacker,” said the officer, “ you have taken 
advantage of your old age, and I perhaps was about to pre- 


90 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


sume upon my youth, if you had not found a champion. I 
came to your prison this morning for the last time, with the 
object of informing you that henceforth you were to be left 
unguarded in the donjon, in accordance with the viceroy’s 
orders. Now accept this good news from an enemy’s mouth.” 

“ Leave me,” said the old captive, in a hollow voice. 

The lieutenant bowed and obeyed, not a little pleased 
within himself at having won a look of approval from Or- 
dener. Schumacker remained for some time with folded 
arms and bended head, plunged in re very. All at once he 
looked up at Ordener, who was standing silently before him. 

“Well?” he said. 

My lord count, Dispolsen was assassinated.” 

The old man’s head fell upon his breast. Ordener went 
on. 

“ The assassin was a notorious brigand, Hans of Iceland.” 

“ Hans of Iceland ! ” said Schumacker. 

“ Hans of Iceland ! ” repeated Ethel. 

“ He plundered the captain,” continued Ordener. 

“ In that case,” said the old man, “ you have heard nothing 
of an iron box, sealed with the Griffenfeld arms ? ” 

“ No, my lord.” 

Schumacker let his head fall into his hands. Ordener 
continued, “ I will bring it back to you, my lord count ; you 
can rely upon me. The murder was done yesterday morning. 
Hans has fled to the North. I have a guide who knows his 
hiding-places, and I have often travelled through the Dron- 
theimhus mountains. I shall catch the brigand.” 

Ethel turned pale. Schumacker stood up, a look of some- 
thing like joy coming into his face, as if he still felt a linger- 
ing belief in human integrity. 

“ My noble Ordener,” he said, “ farewell ! ” Lifting one 
hand toward heaven, he disappeared behind the shrubbery. 

When Ordener turned he saw Ethel prostrate on the moss- 
covered rock, looking in her pallor like an alabaster statue on 
a black pedestal. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


91 


“ Great heavens, Ethel ! ” he said, hastening to her side and 
raising her in his arms ; “ what is the matter ? ” 

“ Oh,” the trembling young girl responded, in a voice that 
could scarcely be heard, “ oh, if you really feel a little pity, 
to say nothing of love for me, my lord ; if what you told me 
yesterday was not deceitfully intended ; if you have not come 
to this prison to kill me, — then Lord Ordener, my Ordener, 
in the name of Heaven and in that of the angels, renounce, I 
beg of you, renounce your mad project ! Ordener, my well- 
beloved Ordener,” she went on, her tears falling like rain, and 
her head pressed upon the young man’s breast, “ make this sac- 
rifice for me ! Do not go in pursuit of that frightful demon, 
the brigand with whom you are so anxious to fight. In whose . 
interest do you undertake this thing, Ordener ? Tell me, 
whose claim could be more dear to you than that of the unhap- 
py being whom yesterday you called your beloved bride ? ” 

She paused, almost choked with sobs. Her hands were 
clasped about Ordener’s 'neck, and her supplicating eyes 
looked into his. 

“ My adored Ethel, you alarm yourself without need. God 
is on the side of good intentions, and the interest for which 
I make this venture is none other than your own. That iron 
box contains ” — 

“ My interest,” Ethel interrupted ; “ have I any other in- 
terest than your life ? And if you perish, Ordener, what, 
think you, is to become of me ? ” 

“ Why do you think that I shall be killed, Ethel ? ” 

“Ah, you do not know that infernal brigand, Hans. 
Have you any idea of the monster you propose to run down ? 
Do you realize that he has all the powers of darkness at his 
bidding ; that he crushes towns under mountains ; that with 
the stamp of his foot he can make the roofs of caves fall in ; 
that with the puff of his breath he can blow out the beacon- 
lights along the shore ; and do you think, Ordener, that you 
can withstand such a diabolical giant, with your tender arms 
and your frail sword ? ” 


92 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ And your prayers, Ethel, and the thought that I am 
fighting for you ? Be assured, Ethel, that the strength and 
power of the brigand have been greatly exaggerated. He is 
a man, like other men, who deals in death until death is 
dealt out to him.” 

“ You are not willing to listen to me, then ? My appeals 
are nothing to you ? Tell me, what am I to do if you are to 
leave me, wandering from one peril to another, and exposing 
your precious life to the ravages of a monster for some 
imaginary interest ? ” 

At this point the lieutenant’s stories, intensified by her 
love and terror, came afresh into her mind ; and she went ou, 
in a voice brpken with sobs, — 

“ I assure you, my beloved Ordener, they have deceived 
you who told you that this creature was nothing but a man. 
You ought to believe me rather than them, Ordener, for you 
know that 'I would not deceive you. A thousand times they 
have tried to subdue him ; he has destroyed whole battalions. 
I only wish that these other people would tell you the truth ; 
you would believe them, and you would not go.” 

Ethel’s supplications would doubtless have shattered Or- 
dener’s adventurous purpose, if his plans had not been so well 
matured. The words which the despairing Schumacker had 
let fall the night before came back to his memory, and 
strengthened his determination. 

“ I might, my dear Ethel, tell you that I was not going, and 
in spite of that carry out my plan ; but I shall never deceive 
you, even to calm your fears. I repeat, I must not hesitate 
between your tears and your real interests. Your fortune, 
your happiness, perhaps your life, — yes, your life, — are at 
stake, my Ethel.” And he pressed her tenderly in his arms. 

“ And what is all that to me ? ” she tearfully urged. “ My 
love, my Ordener, my joy, — you know that you are all my 
joy, — do not bring a certain and frightful disaster upon me, 
in place of slight and doubtful misfortunes. What are my 
fortunes and my life to me ? ” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


93 


“ Your father’s life is also involved, Ethel.” 

“ My father’s ? ” she repeated in a low tone, turning pale, 
and releasing herself from his arms. 

“ Yes, Ethel. This brigand, suborned no doubt by the 
Count of Grilfenf eld’s enemies, has papers in - his possession, 
the loss of which endangers your father’s much hated life. I 
want to get those papers back, and your father’s life with 
them.” 

Ethel stood for some moments pale and speechless. Her 
tears were dried, her breast heaved painfully, and she looked 
at the ground with a dulled and indifferent eye, much as a 
condemned prisoner might look at the axe lifted above his head. 

“My father’s !” she murmured. Then she turned her eyes 
slowly upon Ordener. “ Your undertaking is futile,” she said, 
“ but go.” 

“ Oh, my noble girl,” said Ordener, straining her to his 
breast ; “ let your heart beat against mine. Generous love, I 
will soon return. Trust me, you shall yet be mine ; I want to 
do this for your father, that I may worthily be his son. My 
Ethel, my well-beloved Ethel ! ” 

Who can undertake to reveal the sentiments that animate a 
noble soul, when its inmost thoughts are comprehended by 
another ? And when love unites two such spirits as that with 
an indestructible bond, who can undertake to portray their 
inexpressible ecstasy ? Then it is that the happiness and 
glory of a lifetime, intensified by the charm of a generous 
sacrifice, seem to be concentrated into one brief moment. 

“ Oh, my Ordener, go, and if you do not come back, hopeless 
sorrow always kills. That melancholy consolation remains to 
me.” 

They stood up together, and Ordener drew Ethel’s arms 
within his own, and her beloved hand in his. Thus they 
silently traversed the winding paths of the deeply shaded gar- 
den, and regretfully reached the tower gate which formed the 
exit. There Ethel drew a small pair of golden scissors from 
her bosom, and severed a lock of her beautiful black hair. 


94 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ Take this, Ordener ; let it go with you and be more fortu- 
nate that I.” 

With the fervor of a worshipper, Ordener pressed this token 
from his well-beloved to his lips. 

“ Ordener,” she went on, “ think of me, and I shall pray for 
you. In the sight of God, my prayers perhaps will be as 
helpful as your weapons in your conflict with the demon.” 

Before this angelic utterance Ordener bowed his head. His 
heart was so full that his emotions found no outlet in speech. 
They remained for some time heart to heart. At the moment 
of parting with her, perhaps forever, Ordener enjoyed with 
melancholy rapture the happiness of holding his Ethel once 
more in his arms. Finally, pressing a long and adoring kiss 
upon the sweet young girl’s pale forehead, he sprang hurriedly 
through the gloomy archway of the winding staircase, and as 
he descended caught the sorrowful and tender accents of the 
word “ Farewell ! ” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


95 


CHAPTER X. 

Thou would’st not leave her wretched ; outward eyes 
Would hail her happy. 

They’ve decked her form in purple and in pall ; 
When she goes forth, the thronging vassals kneel, 
And bending pages bear her foot-cloth well. 

No eye beholds that lady in her bower; 

That is her hour of joy, for then she weeps, 

Nor does her husband hear. 


I am that wretch, 

The wife of a most noble, honored lord, 

The mother of a babe whose smiles do stab me. 

Maturin: Bertram. 

The Countess of Ahlefeld passed from a sleepless night to 
a sleepless day. Half reclining on a sofa, she dwelt in fancy 
upon the bitter after-taste of illicit pleasures, upon the crime 
'which stabs the life with passions that have no happiness in 
them and with sorrows that have no consolation. She was 
thinking of Musdcemon, who in her guilty illusions had been 
so seductive a figure in time gone by, and who, now that she 
had come to recognize the ugliness of his soul, was so revolt- 
ing to her. The miserable woman wept, not at the deceit that 
had been practised upon her, but that she was no longer capa- 
ble of deception ; with regret, not with repentance ; and so 
her tears brought no solace with them. At this moment the 
door opened ; she wiped her eyes quickly, and looked up 
angrily at the intrusion, for she had given orders to be left 
alone. Her wrath changed to terror when she saw Musdœ- 
mon, but her fears were in part allayed when she perceived 
that he was accompanied by her son Frederic. 

“ Mother,” exclaimed the lieutenant, “ how is it that you 


96 


IIANS OF ICELAND. 


are here ? I thought that you were at Bergen. Have our 
fair ladies revived the custom of travelling everywhere ? ” 
The countess greeted Frederic with embraces, to which, 
like all spoiled children, he responded but coldly. That was 
perhaps the most grievous of punishments for the unfortunate 
mother to endure. Frederic was her adored son, the only 
being in the world towards whom she felt any degree of dis- 
interested affection ; for it often happens that in the most 
debased of women the instinct of the mother remains when 
the duties of wifehood are ignored. 

“ I perceive, my son, that, as soon as you knew that I was 
at Drontheim, you hastened at once to see me.” 

“Oh, great heavens, no. I w'as bored to death at the for- 
tress, so I came over to town, and I met Musdcemon, who 
brought me here.” The poor mother sighed deeply. “ All 
the same,” Frederic went on, “ I am very glad to see you, 
mother. You can tell me if they are still wearing knots of 
pink ribbon around the bottom of the waistcoat at Copen- 
hagen. Did you think to bring me a vial of Oil of Youth for 
whitening the skin ? I hope you didn’t forget a translation 
of the latest romance, or the gold lace I asked you to get for 
my flame-colored housecoat, or the little combs that they put 
under curls to keep the ringlets in place, or ” — 

The wretched woman had brought nothing to her son but 
all the love that she had in the world. 

“ My dear son, I have been ill, and my sufferings have pre- 
vented me from thinking of your desires.” 

“ You have been ill, mother ? Well, you are all right now, 
aren’t you ? By the way, how is my pack of Norman hounds 
getting on ? I dare èwear they’ve forgotten to give my 
monkey his nightly bath of rose-water. You see if I don’t 
find my Bilbao parrot dead when I go back. When I’m 
away, nobody looks after my pets.” 

“ At any rate, your mother thinks of you, my son,” she said, 
in faltering tones. If it had been the inexorable hour when 
the destroying angel casts the souls of sinners to eternal tor- 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


97 


ment, even he would have had pity upon the agony which at 
this moment rent the unfortunate mother’s heart. Musdce- 
mon stood laughing in a corner. 

“ My lord Frederic,” he said, “ I see that the steel blade 
is not left to rust in the iron scabbard. You do not propose 
to get out of touch with Copenhagen fashions, even though 
you may be shut up in Munckholm towers. But be kind 
enough to let me know what Oil of Youth, and pink ribbons, 
and little combs amount to, of what use these warlike appur- 
tenances can be, if the only feminine fortress at Munckholm 
is impregnable.” 

“ On my honor, ’tis so,” responded Frederic merrily. 
“ Certainly, if I have failed, General Schaack himself would 
not succeed. But how can one surprise a fort where no point 
is left vulnerable, and where the guard is never off duty ? 
What is to be done with a bodice that shows nothing but the 
neck ; with sleeves that hide the whole arm, so that nothing 
but the face and hands are left to prove that the young lady 
is not as black as the Emperor of Mauritania ? My dear pre- 
ceptor, you would be nothing but a pupil. Believe me, the 
fort is impregnable when modesty is in command of the gar- 
rison.” 

“ Ah, really ! ” said Musdœmon. “ But may not modesty 
be forced to capitulate, when love makes the assault, and one 
is not limited to a little siege of small attentions.” 

“No use, my dear fellow. Love has made an entry, but 
only to re-enforce modesty.” 

“ Ah, sir Frederic, this is news. If love is on your side ” — 

“ And who told you, Musdœmon, that he was ? ” 

“ On whose side, then ? ” exclaimed Musdœmon and the 
countess, the latter having until then listened in silence ; but 
the lieutenant’s words had recalled Ordener to her mind. 
Frederic was about to reply with a piquant tale of the noc- 
turnal interview, when he suddenly thought of the law of 
courtesy and the silence that it imposed, and his gayety 
changed to embarrassment. 


98 


II A NS OF ICELAND. 


“ My faith/’ he said, “ I don’t know on whose — but some 
rustic fellow perhaps — some vassal ” — 

“ Some soldier of the garrison ? ” said Musdœmon, with an 
outburst of laughter. 

“ What, my son,” exclaimed the countess, “ are you sure 
that she is in love with a peasant, a vassal ? How fortunate 
if that is really so ! ” 

“ Oh, yes, I am sure enough of it. It’s not a soldier of the 
garrison,” the lieutenant added, with an expression of annoy- 
ance. “ But I am sure enough of what I tell you to entreat 
you, my dear mother, to put an end to my entirely useless 
exile in that cursed castle.” 

An expression of pleasure had come into the face of the 
countess when she learned of the young girl’s fall. The 
haste made by Ordener Guldenlew to get to Munckholm now 
appeared to her in wholly different colors. She awarded the 
honors of the affair to her son. 

“ You must give us the details regarding Ethël Schumack- 
er’s love-affairs without delay, Frederic. I am not surprised, 
since the daughter of a boor could only love a boor. Mean- 
while, waste no curses on the castle, since it led yesterday to 
the honor of having a certain personage take the first steps 
towards making your acquaintance.” 

“ How is that, mother ? ” said the lieutenant, opening his 
eyes, “ what personage ? ” 

“ Let us be serious, my son. Did no one make you a visit 
yesterday ? You see that I keep myself informed.” 

“ My faith, better than I, mother. Devil take me, if I saw 
any faces yesterday except the masks under the cornices in 
the old towers ! ” 

“ How, Frederic ; you saw no one ? ” 

“No one, mother, truly.” 

In omitting to speak of his donjon adversary, Frederic was 
obeying the law of silence ; and, aside from that, could such 
a churl count for anybody ? 

“ What,” said the mother, “ did not the viceroy’s son visit 
Munckholm last night ? ” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


99 


“ The viceroy’s son ! ” said the lieutenant, laughing loudly. 
“ It must be, mother, that you are dreaming or joking.” 

“ Neither one nor the other, my son. Who was officer of 
the guard yesterday ? ” 

“ I was, mother.” 

“ And you did not see Baron Ordener ? ” 

“No, indeed,” responded the lieutenant. 

“ But remember, my son, that he probably made his visit 
incognito, and that you have never seen him, as you were 
brought up at Copenhagen, while he passed his youth at 
Drontheim. Remember what has been said about his ca- 
prices, and his liking for a wandering life. Are you sure, my 
son, that you saw no one ? ” 

Frederic hesitated a moment. “No,” he exclaimed, “no 
one ! I can make no other reply.” 

“ In that case,” responded the countess, “ we must believe 
that the baron did not go to Munckholm.” 

Musdœmon, who at first had been as much surprised as 
Frederic was, had listened attentively. He interrupted the 
countess. 

“ Permit me, noble lady. Sir Frederic, be kind enough to 
let us know the name of the vassal whom Schumacker’s 
daughter loves.” He repeated his question, for Frederic had 
suddenly become quite thoughtful and had not heard it. 

“I don’t know — or rather — -no, I don’t know.” 

“ Then, how do you know that she is in love with a 
vassal ? ” 

“ Did I say so ? A vassal ? Well, yes, a vassal.” 

The embarrassment which overcame the lieutenant was 
increased. The question, the ideas that it had aroused in 
him, and the obligation to keep silence, involved him in a 
tangle in which he was likely to lose his head. 

“ By my faith, good Musdœmon, and you, my noble 
mother, if questioning is the fashion, amuse yourselves by 
interrogating one another. As for me, I have nothing more 
to say.” 


100 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


And quickly opening the door he disappeared, leaving them 
wallowing in an abyss of conjecture. He descended with all 
speed to the courtyard, for he heard Musdœmon’s voice call- 
ing to him to come back. He sprang on his horse, and rode 
towards the quay, with the purpose of taking boat for Munck- 
holm, where he hoped he might perhaps still find the stranger 
who had brought into a condition of profound reflection one 
of the most frivolous brains of the most frivolous of cities. 

“ If it were really Ordener Guldenlew,” he said to himself ; 
“ in that case my poor Ulrica — but no ; it is impossible that 
any one should be so absurd as to prefer the dowerless 
daughter of a state prisoner to the wealthy daughter of an 
all-powerful minister. However that may be, Schumacker’s 
daughter is nothing but a fancy, and nothing prevents one 
who has a wife from having a mistress at the same time, — 
that, in fact, is the proper thing. But no, it cannot be Or- 
dener. The viceroy’s son would not wear a shabby waist- 
coat ; and that old, black, buckleless, weather-worn plume ; 
and that big cloak, that might be used for a tent ; and the di- 
shevelled hair, combless and curlless ; and those iron-spurred 
boots, stained with mud and dust ! It cannot possibly be he. 
Baron Thorvick is a knight of Dannebrog ; this stranger 
wears no decoration. If I were a knight of Dannebrog I 
should wear the collar of the order even in bed. Oh, no ; he 
did not even know anything about Clélie. No ; it is not the 
viceroy’s son.” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


101 


CHAPTER XI. 


If man could still retain the ardor of impulse, after he had been en- 
lightened by experience ; if he could derive profit from the passage of 
years, without bending under their weight, — he would never scoff at the 
nobler virtues, which invariably have their elemental basis in self-sacri- 
fice. — Mme. de Staël : Germany. 


“ Well, who is it ? You, Poël ? Who sent you up 
here ? ” 

“ His excellency forgets that he himself just gave me the 
order.” 

“ Yes ? ” said the general. “ Ah, it was to get you to give 
me that box.” 

Poël handed over the box, which the governor might have 
got for himself by extending his arm. His excellency put it 
down in an indifferent way, without opening it, and then 
began to turn over some papers, without apparently paying 
much attention to what he was doing. 

“ Poël, I also wanted to ask you — what time is it ? ” 

“ Six o’clock,” responded the valet ; and the general had 
a clock right before his eyes. 

“ I wanted to say to you, Poël — what is the news in the 
palace ? ” 

The general went on turning over his papers, and in an 
abstracted way writing a few words on each document. 

“ Nothing, your excellency, except that my noble master 
has not yet arrived, and I see that the general is uneasy 
about him.” 

The general got up from his big desk, and looked at Poël 
with some irritation. 

“ You don’t see straight, Poël. I, uneasy about Ordener ! 


102 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


I know why he is absent ; I do not expect him yet.’’ General 
Levin de Knud was so jealous of his authority that it would 
seem to him to be compromised if a subordinate had been 
able to divine any of his inner thoughts, and to get the idea 
that Ordener had been acting without his orders. 

“ Poël,” he went on, “ you may retire.” The valet went 
out. “ ’Tis true,” exclaimed the governor, when left to him- 
self ; “ Ordener takes advantage of my indulgence. When 
the blade is bent too far, it breaks. To make me pass a 
sleepless and worried night, to expose General Levin to the 
sarcasm of the chancellor’s office and a servant’s conjectures, 
and all this that his ancient enemy may get the first em- 
braces which he owes to an old friend ! Ordener, Ordener, 
caprice is death to liberty ! Let him come, only let him 
make his appearance, and devil take me if I don’t receive 
him as powder takes to fire ! To expose the governor of 
Drontheim to a servant’s conjectures and to the sarcasm of 
the chancellor’s office — let him come ! ” 

The general went on annotating his papers without reading 
them, in the preoccupation of his ill humor. 

“ My general, my noble father ! ” exclaimed a well-known 
voice. 

Ordener threw his arms about the old man, who did not 
even try to repress a cry of joy. 

“ Ordener, my dear fellow ! By Jove, how glad I am ! ” 
He remembered his anger, and cut short the sentence. “ I 
am delighted, my lord, to find that you know how to repress 
your emotions. You seem to be glad to see me again, but it 
was doubtless by way of penance that you imposed upon 
yourself the obligation of not seeing me until twenty-four 
hours after you arrived.”. 

“ My father, you have often told me that an unfortunate 
enemy ought to have the preference over a fortunate friend. 
I come from Munckholm.” 

“ By all means,” said the general, “ when the enemy’s mis- 
fortune is pressing. But Schumacker’s future ” — 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


103 


“Is more imperilled than ever. Noble general, an odious 
plot is being hatched against the unfortunate man. Those 
who were once his friends are pledged to bring about his ruin. 
And now his hereditary enemy desires to save him.” 

The general, whose features had softened little by little, 
now interrupted Ordener. 

“ Very well, my dear Ordener. But what is it you mean ? 
Schumacker is under my protection. Who are these people, 
and what are the plots ? ” 

Ordener was not at all able to respond definitely to the 
question. He had only the vaguest ideas and very ill-defined 
suspicions regarding the situation of the man for whom he 
was going to risk his life. Many people would believe that 
he was acting foolishly, but youth does what it thinks to be 
right by instinct and not through calculation ; and moreover, 
in a world where prudence is so sterile and wisdom so iron- 
ical, who will deny that generosity and folly are synonymous ? 
Everything is relative here on earth, and finite conditions 
limit everything. Virtue would be the supremest of absurd- 
ities, if behind men there were not a God. Ordener was at 
the age when one believes and is believed. He ventured his 
life with perfect self-confidence. And the general was will- 
ing to accept from him reasons which could not have with- 
stood a formal argument. 

“ What plots, and what men, my good father ? In a few 
days I shall have cleared up the whole matter. Then you 
will know all that I know. I shall leave to-night.” 

“ What,” exclaimed the old man ; “ you will allow me only 
a few hours. But why are you going, and where are you 
going, my dear son ? ” 

“ You have sometimes permitted me, my dear father, to 
perform a worthy deed in secret.” 

“ Yes, my brave Ordener ; but you are going away without 
any too clear a motive, and you know what an important 
matter requires your attention.” 

“ My father gave me a month for reflection ; I shall devote 


104 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


it to the interests of another. A good deed gives good coun- 
sel. When I come back, we shall see.” 

“ What,” replied the general solicitously ; “ is the marriage 
displeasing to you ? They say that Ulrica Ahlefield is so 
beautiful ! Tell me, have you seen her ? ” 

“ I believe I have,” said Ordener ; “if I remember rightly, 
she is quite beautiful.” 

“ Well ? ” responded the governor. 

“ Well,” said Ordener, “ she will never be my wife.” 

This cold and decisive speech was a heavy blow to the 
general. The suspicions suggested by the haughty countess 
came again to his mind. 

“ Ordener,” he said, with a shake of his head, “ I ought to 
be wise, for I have been a sinner. Well, I am an old fool ! 
Ordener, the prisoner has a daughter ” — 

“ Oh, general,” exclaimed the young man, “ I wanted to 
speak to you about her. I ask your protection, my father, 
for that helpless and ill-used young girl.” 

“ Of a truth,” said the governor seriously, “ your entreaties 
are not lacking in warmth.” 

“ Why should they be,” said Ordener, recovering himself a 
little, “ when they concern an unfortunate prisoner, who is in 
peril, not only of her life, but what is much more precious, 
her honor ? ” 

“ Uife ! Honor ! Why, I am governor here, and I am 
ignorant of any such horrors ! Explain yourself.” 

“ My noble father, the life of Schumacker and that of his 
defenceless daughter are menaced by an infernal plot.” 

“ You make a serious accusation. What proof have you ? ” 

“ The eldest son of a powerful family is at this moment at 
Munckholm. He is there to accomplish the seduction of the 
Countess Ethel. He told me so himself.” 

The general recoiled in horror. “ Good God, that poor 
defenceless girl ! Why, Ordener, Ethel and Schumacker are 
under my protection ! Who is the scoundrel ? Of what 
family ? ” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


105 


“The Ahlefeld family.” 

“ Ahlefeld,” said the old governor ; “ yes, the thing is clear 
enough, Lieutenant Frederic is still at Munckholm. My 
noble Ordener, they want you to make an alliance with that 
race ! I can understand your repugnance.” 

The old man folded his arms and remained for a few 
moments plungéd in thought ; then he came up to Ordener, 
and put his arms about him. 

“ Young man, you may go. Your friends shall not lack for 
protection. I will look after them. Yes, go ; what you do is 
always right. Perhaps you know that the diabolical Countess 
of Ahlefeld is here ? ” 

“ The noble, the Countess of Ahlefeld,” said the usher, as 
he opened the door. 

“ Hearing this name, Ordener involuntarily withdrew to 
the end of the room, and the countess entered without seeing 
him. 

“ My lord general,” she exclaimed, “ your ward is deceiv- 
ing you. He has not been to Munckholm.” 

“ Ah, indeed ! ” said the general. 

“ Indeed, ’tis so ; my son Frederic, who is just leaving the 
palace, was officer of the guard at the donjon yesterday, and 
saw no one.” 

“ Indeed, my lady ? ” responded the general. 

“ In that case,” the countess went on, with a smile of 
triumph, “you may give up expecting Ordener.” 

“ To tell the truth, I have given up expecting him, lady 
countess,” said the governor gravely and coldly. 

“ General,” said the countess, turning around, “ I thought 
that we were alone. Who is ” — 

The countess fixed an inquiring look upon Ordener, who 
bowed. 

“ Really,” she continued, “ I only saw him once, but, except 
for the costume, I might take him for — why, general, is it 
the viceroy’s son ? ” 

“ The same, noble lady,” said Ordener, with another bow. 


106 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ In that case,” said the countess smilingly, “ permit an 
acquaintance, who will soon be in a more intimate relation 
with you, to ask you where you were yesterday, my lord 
count.” 

“ ‘ My lord count ! ’ I believe I have not yet had the misfor- 
tune to lose my noble father, lady countess.” 

“ That, indeed, is far from what I meant to imply. ’Tis 
better to become a count by taking a wife, than by losing a 
father.” 

“ One method is no more to be desired than the other, 
noble lady.” 

The countess was a little put out, but she passed off her 
irritation with a laugh. 

“ It seems that they have told me true. His excellency is 
very outspoken. He will be more diplomatic in the presence 
of ladies, when Ulrica Ahlefeld puts the chain of the Order 
of the Elephant around his neck.” 

“ A chain, indeed ! ” said Ordener. 

u You will find, General Levin,” the countess went on, her 
laughter changing to embarrassment, “ that your intractable 
ward will not be any the more willing to accept a colonelcy 
from a lady’s hand.” 

“ You are right, lady countess,” Ordener replied. “ A man 
who wears a sword should not owe his epaulets to a petti- 
coat.” 

The great lady’s expression was one of supreme annoyance. 

“ Oh, well ; from whence do you come, my lord baron ? Is 
it true that your excellency did not go yesterday to Munck- 
holm ? ” 

“ My lady, I am not accustomed to make an answer to every 
question that is put to me. General, we shall see each other 
again.” 

Then, pressing the old man’s hand, and bowing to the 
countess, he went out, leaving the lady, who was overwhelmed 
with her ignorance, alone in the presence of the governor, who 
was indignant at the information he had secured. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


107 


CHAPTER XII. 

The fellow that sits next him now, parts bread with him, and pledges 

the breath of him in a divided draught, is the readiest man to kill him. 

— Shakespeare : Timon of Athens. 

If the reader will now transport himself to the narrow and 
stony road leading from Drontheim to Skongen, along Dron- 
theim bay to the hamlet of Vygla, he will not fail to hear the 
footsteps of two travellers, who left Skongen at nightfall, and 
rapidly ascended the terraced hills up which the Vygla road 
winds serpent-fashion. 

Both are wrapped in cloaks. One walks with a firm and 
youthful step, with body erect and head uplifted ; the end of 
a sword extends below the edge o£ his cloak, and in spite of 
the darkness a plume can be seen waving on his cap in the 
wind. The other is a little taller than his companion, but 
stoops slightly. There is a hump on his back, caused proba- 
bly by a knapsack, which is hidden by a big black cloak, the 
ragged edges of which declare that it has given good and faith- 
ful service. The only weapon he carries is a long stick, which 
he uses to help on his uncertain and hasty footsteps. 

If the darkness prevents the reader from distinguishing the 
features of the two travellers, he will recognize them, perhaps, 
by the conversation which one of them begins, after an hour 
of silent and wearisome journeying. 

“ Master, my young master! We have reached the point 
whence we can see Vygla tower and Drontheim steeples. 
There before us, that black mass on the horizon, is the tower ; 
behind us is the cathedral, whose buttresses, darker than the 
heavens, stand forth like the skeleton of a mammoth.” 

“Is Vygla far from Skongen?” asked the other pedestrian. 


108 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ We have yet to pass through Ordals, my lord. We shall 
not reach Skongen before three o’clock in the morning.” 

“ What hour is that just striking ? ” 

“ Great heavens, master, you alarm me. Why, that must 
be Drontheim clock, and the wind brings the sound this way. 
That means a storm. The north-west wind carries clouds with 
it.” 

“ Yes ; the stars behind us have all disappeared.” 

“ Let us hasten, my noble lord, I beg of you. The storm is 
coming, and perhaps the mutilation of Gill’s body and my 
flight have already been discovered in the town. Let us 
hasten.” 

“ Willingly. Old man, your burden seems to be heavy ; 
let me take it, for I am young and more vigorous than you.” 

“No, no, my noble master. ’Tis not for the eagle to carry 
the turtle’s shell. I am not worthy to have my knapsack 
borne by you.” 

“ Whjr, yes, old man, if it wearies you. It seems to be 
heavy. What does it contain ? Just now, when you stum- 
bled, it rang like iron.” 

“ Rang like iron, master ? ” said the old man, drawing 
quickly away from his young companion. “ Oh, no ; you are 
mistaken. It contains nothing, — nothing, that is, but food 
and clothing. No, it does not tire me, my lord.” 

The well-meaning suggestion which the young man had 
made seemed to have caused a good deal of alarm in the mind 
of his aged comrade, and the latter strove hard to conceal his 
emotion. 

“Very well,” the youth responded, without insisting; “if 
you don’t find the burden tiresome, why, keep it.” 

The old man calmed down at this, but took pains to change 
the topic of conversation. 

“ ’Tis a melancholy experience, to travel by night as a fugi- 
tive over a road which it would be so agreeable, my lord, to 
traverse in the daytime, with the object of enjoying the 
scenery. On the shores of the bay, at our left, you would 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


109 


find Runic stones in abundance ; and you would be able to 
study the inscriptions, which, as tradition has it, were in- 
scribed on them by gods and giants. To the right, behind the 
rocks bordering the road, is the salt marsh of Skjold, which 
doubtless has a subterranean connection with the sea ; for the 
sea-worm is found there, — a peculiar fish, which, as your 
humble servant and guide has discovered, gets its nourishment 
from the sand. In Yygla tower, which we are approaching, 
Vermond, the pagan king, burned the breasts of St. Etheldera, 
the glorious martyr, with wood from the true cross, brought to 
Copenhagen by Olahus III., and captured by the Norwegian 
king. ’Tis said that since that time they have vainly en- 
deavored to transform the ill-omened tower into a chapel. 
Every cross that is put up on it is struck by lightning and 
destroyed.” 

At this moment a formidable flash illuminated the bay, the 
hill, the rocks, and the tower, and disappeared before the eyes 
of the two travellers could take in any one of these objects. 
They paused instinctively as the flash was followed in quick 
succession by a violent clap of thunder, which went echoing 
from cloud to cloud overhead, and from rock to rock along the 
earth. 

They looked up. The stars were hidden by great clouds, 
that swept rapidly by one after another, and the storm seemed 
to be gathering above them with the force of an avalanche. 
The fierce wind which was carrying the masses of vapor 
along had not yet got low enough to touch the treetops, which 
stood motionless, and untouched by a drop of rain. Ear 
above them they could hear the roaring of the tempest, which, 
with the noise made by the waters of the bay, was the only 
sound that arose in the darkness of a night whose obscurity 
was made yet more impenetrable by the gloom of the impend- 
ing outburst. 

The tumultuous silence was suddenly interrupted by a sort 
of roar close by the two travellers, which greatly startled the 
old man. 


110 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ All-powerful God ! ” he exclaimed, seizing the young 
man’s arm, “ ’tis the laugh of the devil riding on the storm, 
or the voice of ” — 

Another flash of lightning and another thunder peal cut 
short his words. As if it had been awaiting the signal, the 
storm began violently. The two travellers wrapped their 
cloaks closely about them to protect themselves, not only 
against the rain, which was falling from the clouds in tor- 
rents, but from the thick flying dust, which the furious wind 
had lifted from the dry earth like a whirlwind. 

“Old man,” said the youth, “ the lightning just showed me 
Vygla tower upon our right ; let us leave the road and seek 
shelter there.” 

“ Shelter in the accursed tower ! ” exclaimed the old man. 
“ May St. Hospitius guard us ! Remember, young master, 
that the tower is deserted.” 

“ So much the better, old man ; we shall not have to wait 
at the door.” 

“ Remember the desecration it has suffered ! ” 

“ Oh, well, perhaps our presence will purify it. Come on, 
old man ; follow me. I assure you that on such a night as 
this I would seek hospitality in a robber’s cave.” 

Then, in spite of the old man’s remonstrances, he seized 
the arm of his companion, and went toward the building, 
which in the almost continuous flashes of lightning they could 
see standing close by. As they approached, they saw a light 
shining through one of the loopholes. 

“ You can see,” said the young man, “ that the tower is not 
deserted. You will be more disposed to enter now.” 

“ In the name of the good God ! ” exclaimed the old man, 
“ where are you leading me, master ? St. Hospitius forbid 
that I should enter that demon’s oratory ! ” 

They were at the foot of the tower. The younger man 
knocked vehemently at the new door of the awe-inspiring ruin. 

“ Be calm, old man. Some pious cenobite has sanctified 
this desecrated shrine by making his dwelling there.” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


Ill 


“No,” said Ms companion; “ I will not go in. Believe me, 
no liermit can live here, unless he uses one of Beelzebub’s 
seven chains for his rosary.” 

Meanwhile the light had descended froim loophole to loop- 
hole, and now shone through the keyhole of the door. 

“You come late, Nychol ! ” called a shrill voice. “They 
set up the gallows at midday, and six hours are enough to 
get from Skongen to Vygla. Did you have more than your 
accustomed task ? ” 

With the launching of this question the door opened ; and 
the woman who stood there, seeing two strangers instead of 
the visitor she expected, uttered a cry of alarm and menace, 
and started back two or three steps. 

The appearance of the woman was not in itself very reas- 
suring. She was tall ; and in her upstretched arm she held an 
iron lamp above her head, the light falling strongly upon her 
face. Her livid, thin, and angular features made her seem 
almost cadaverous, and from her sunken eyes flashed sinister 
rays, like those of a funeral torch. She wore a scarlet serge 
skirt, that did not hide her naked feet, which had reddish 
stains upon them. Her withered breast was but half-covered 
by a man’s coat of the same color, of which the sleeves had 
been cut off at the elbow. The wind, coming in through the 
open door, tossed up her long gray hair, in spite of a strip of 
bark she wore to hold it in place, and thus gave a still more 
savage expression to her grim countenance. 

“ My good woman,” said the younger of the travellers, “ the 
rain is falling in torrents, you have a roof, and we have money.” 

His aged companion caught hold of his cloak, and said in 
an undertone, — 

“ Oh, master, this is imprudent ! If we are not at the 
devil’s house, ’tis at least some bandit’s hiding-place. Gold 
will be our destruction, not our salvation.” 

“ Hush,” said the young man ; and taking a purse from his 
doublet he let the woman see that it was well filled, and re- 
peated his application. The woman, recovering a little from 


112 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


her surprise, looked from one to the other with wild and 
penetrating glances. 

“ Strangers,” she at length exclaimed, as if she had not 
heard what they had been saying, “ have your guardian 
angels deserted you ? Who is it you seek for among the 
dwellers in the accursed tower ? Strangers, ’tis no man .that 
pointed out these ruins as an asylum ; for every one would 
have said to you, ‘ better endure the lightning and the tem- 
pest than venture to the fireside at Vygla tower.’ The only 
living creature that can enter here enters no other human 
dwelling, quits his solitude only to destroy, and lives only 
that he may kill. The curses of mankind are his inspiration, 
he ministers to them as an instrument of vengeance, and he 
exists only because of their crimes ; and the vilest scoundrel, 
when the hour of punishment arrives, vents on him a portion 
of the universal contempt, not failing to add a little of his 
own. Strangers, — for such you are, since your feet have 
not yet in prophetic horror crossed the threshold of this 
tower, — trouble no longer the wolf and her litter. Go back 
to the road, where men like you are wont to travel ; and if 
you would not be avoided by your kind, never let them know 
that the light of the dwellers of Vygla tower has fallen upon 
your faces.” 

At these words she pointed to the door, and moved toward 
the two travellers. The old man trembled in every limb, and 
looked entreatingly at his young companion, who, not having 
been able to understand the woman’s speech because of her 
extreme volubility, believed her to be mad ; and more than 
that, he did not feel at all willing to go out again into the 
rain, which continued to fall in rushing torrents. 

“ By my faith, good woman, you have just described to us 
a peculiar person, with whom I desire not to lose the oppor- 
tunity of making acquaintance.” 

“ Acquaintance with him, young man, is soon made, sooner 
ended. If your evil genius will not be appeased, go and com- 
mit a murder or desecrate a corpse.” 


II AN S OF ICELAND. 


113 


“ Desecrate a corpse ! ” the old man repeated in a trem- 
bling voice, hiding himself in his companion’s shadow. 

“ I have but a vague idea of what you mean to suggest,” 
said the young man, “and a quicker way will be to stay 
here. One would be mad indeed to pursue a journey in such 
weather.” 

“ But madder yet,” the old man murmured, “ to seek shel- 
ter from such weather in such a place.” 

“ Ill-fated wretch,” the woman exclaimed, “ seek no admit- 
tance at this door, lest you find it the door to a tomb.” 

“ Though the door of the tomb opened to me with yours, 
woman, it shall not be said that I drew back at a warning 
word. My sword shall be my guardian. Come, close the 
door, for the wind is cold ; and here is money.” 

“ Pooh, what is your money to me ? ” the woman responded. 
“’Tis precious in your hands, but in mine it would be base 
metal. Well, then, remain for gold, if you will have it so; 
for gold can protect you from stormy skies, if it cannot save 
you from human scorn. Stay then, since you reward hospi- 
tality more profitably than a murder does. Wait here a 
moment for me, and give me your gold. Yes, ’tis the first 
time that a man’s hands have come here laden with gold, 
without being stained with blood.” 

Putting down the lamp, and making fast the door, she dis- 
appeared up the archway of a dark staircase at the back of 
the room. 

While the old man shivered, and, invoking the glorious St. 
Hospitius by every name, cursed in a low voice the impru- 
dence of his young companion, the latter took up the light, and 
started to walk through the great circular apartment in which 
they found themselves. As he approached the farther wall 
he shuddered at what he saw ; and the old man, who had 
followed him with his eyes, cried aloud, — 

“ Great God, master, a gallows ! ” 

And in truth a tall gallows leaned against the wall, and 
reached to the summit of the black and dripping arch. 


114 


HAKE OF ICELAND. 


“ Yes/’ said' the young man ; “ and here are wood and iron 
saws, chains, pillories, a trestle, and great pincers hanging 
above it.” 

“ By all the saints in paradise,” the old man exclaimed, 
“ where are we ? ” 

“ Here is a coil of hempen rope,” said the young man, 
methodically continuing his investigation ; “ here are furnaces 
and kettles ; this part of the wall is hung thickly with nip- 
pers and scalpels ; here are leather scourges armed with steel 
points, an axe, and a club.” 

“ ’Tis no other than hell’s storehouse ! ” the old man inter- 
rupted, horrified at this formidable catalogue. 

“ Here,” the young man went on, “ are copper tubes, bronze- 
toothed wheels, a box of big nails, a screw-jack. These are 
in truth sinister furnishings. You may well be wrathful at 
my impatience in bringing you here with me.” 

“ Ah, you agree to that, then ! ” said the old man, more dead 
than alive. 

“ Don’t be alarmed ; what matters the place you may be in, 
so long as I am with you ? ” 

“ A noble protector,” the old man murmured, whose terror 
began to weaken the fear and respect he had felt for his 
young companion ; “ a sword thirty inches long against a 
gallows thirty cubits high ! ” 

The tall red woman once more made her appearance, and, 
taking up the iron lamp, signed to the travellers to follow 
her. Feeling their way carefully, they ascended a narrow, 
worn staircase, that had been built within the limits of the 
tower wall. At every loophole, a blast of wind and rain 
threatened to extinguish the trembling lamp-flame ; but the 
hostess guarded it with her long, thin hands. They stumbled 
more than once over loose stones, which the old man’s alarmed 
imagination pictured as human bones strewn upon the stair- 
case ; and then they came to the second floor of the building 
into a round chamber, similar to that on the floor below. In 
the middle space, in accordance with the Gothic style of 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


115 


building, a great fire was burning ; and the smoke, after more 
or less permeating the atmosphere, escaped through an open- 
ing in the ceiling overhead. It was through this opening 
that the firelight, united with that from the iron lamp, had 
cast the illumination seen by the two travellers from the 
road. A spit, bearing a piece of fresn meat, was turning 
before the fire. 

“ On this abominable hearth,” said the old man to his 
companion, with a gesture of horror, “ a portion of a saint’s 
body was burned with pieces of the true cross.” 

A roughly made table stood at some distance from the fire- 
place. The woman invited the travellers to seat themselves 
there. 

“ Strangers,” she said, placing the lamp before them, 
“ supper will soon be ready ; and my husband will be sure to 
hasten his return, for fear that the spirit of darkness, in pass- 
ing the accursed tower, may carry him off.” 

At this point Ordener — for the reader has no doubt 
already guessed the identity of the young man, and of his 
guide, Benignus Spiagudry — had opportunity to examine 
at his ease the peculiar disguise with which the old man had 
adorned himself, through fear of being recognized and de- 
tained, and upon the details of which he had expended all 
the resources of a fertile imagination. The poor fugitive had 
exchanged his reindeer-skin clothing for a full suit of black, 
left formerly at the Spladgest by a celebrated Drontheim 
grammarian, who had drowned himself in despair at not 
being able to find out why “ Jupiter” takes “Jovis” in the 
genitive. His wooden shoes had given place to big postil- 
ion’s boots, that had become much worn by friction against 
the horses’ sides, and in which the scant legs of the present 
wearer took so slight a hold that he would not have been 
able to walk in them at all if he had not stuffed them with 
half a bunch of hay. His bald head was concealed by an 
immense wig, which had once belonged to a young French 
dandy, who had been waylaid and murdered at Drontheim 


116 


U A NS OF ICELAND. 


gates, and this covering rippled down over his sharp and 
uneven shoulders. One of his eyes was covered with a 
plaster ; and thanks to a jar of cosmetic, which he had 
found in the pocket of an old maid, dead from unrecipro- 
cated love, his pale and wrinkled cheeks were tinted to an 
unwonted vermilion, an adornment which the rain had car- 
ried down to the end of his chin. Before he seated himself, 
he had carefully removed the knapsack from his back and 
put it beneath him ; and, wrapping himself up in his old 
cloak, he paid no attention to the gaze of his companion, but 
watched with painful scrutiny the roast which the hostess 
was supervising, and which he seemed to regard with dis- 
quietude and horror. Now and then disjointed phrases fell 
from his lips. “ Human flesh — liorrendas epulas — anthro- 
pophagi ! A Moloch’s feast — ne puer os coram populo Medea 
trucidet ! What place is this ? Atreus ! Druidess! Irmen- 
sul ! The devil crushed Lycaon with a thunderbolt ! ” Here 
he broke off a moment, and then exclaimed, “ Great heavens ! 
God have mercy ! I saw a tail ! ” 

Ordener, who had been watching him attentively, and had 
almost been able to follow the thread of his thoughts, could 
not suppress a smile. 

“ There’s nothing very reassuring about that tail, ’tis true. 
Perhaps the devil is behind it.” 

Spiagudry did not hear this sally ; his gaze was fixed upon 
the other side of the room. He shuddered, and leaned over 
to Ordener’ s ear. 

“ Master, look across there to the other side, at the heap of 
straw in the shadow ” — 

“ Well, Avhat of it ? ” asked Ordener. 

“ Three naked and motionless corpses, the bodies of three 
children ! ” 

“ There’s a knock at the tower door,” exclaimed the red 
woman, as she knelt at the fireplace. 

The noise of three heavy strokes, the last two the loudest 
of all, echoed through the fury of the increasing storm. 


HANS OF ICELAND 


117 


“ ’Tis he, at last, — ’tis Nychol ! ” said the hostess, seizing 
the lamp, and hurrying down the stairs. 

The two travellers had no opportunity to resume their con- 
versation before they heard a confused murmur of voices in 
the room below ; and these words reached their ears, in a tone 
that made Spiagudry shudder, — 

“ Woman, be silent ; we will remain. Thunder will enter, 
though the door be closed.” 

“ Master, master,” said Spiagudry, in a whisper, “ misfor- 
tune comes ! ” 

The sound of footsteps was heard upon the stairs ; and two 
men in clerical garb entered the apartment, followed by the 
alarmed hostess. 

One of the men was rather tall, and wore the black coat and 
close-cropped hair of a Lutheran minister. The other, who 
was short, wore a hermit’s robe and a cincture ; the hood was 
drawn down over his face, leaving only a long black beard 
visible; and his hands were wholly concealed in large sleeves. 

Seeing these two peaceful looking persons, Spiagudry was 
perceptibly relieved of the terror which the peculiar voice of 
one of them had aroused in him. 

“ Be not alarmed, my dear woman,” the minister said to the 
hostess ; “ Christian priests deal kindly with their enemies ; 
would you expect them to be at enmity with those who are 
kind to them ? We humbly beseech of you to give us shelter. 
If the reverend doctor who accompanies me spoke sternly to 
you a moment ago, he was wrong in forgetting that gentleness 
of speech is prescribed to us by our vows. Alas, that the 
most saintly should sometimes fall short of holiness ! I lost 
my way on the road from Skongen to Drontheim, and was 
wandering about in the darkness and the storm, without guide 
or shelter. My reverend brother, whom I met, and who also 
was far from his own home, deigned to permit me to come 
with him to your dwelling. He has not hesitated to praise 
your hospitality fervently, my dear woman, and doubtless he 
was right in doing so. Do not address us in the words of the 


118 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


wicked shepherd, — Advena, cur intras ? Grant us welcome, 
worthy hostess, and God will preserve your harvest from the 
storm, and will shelter your flocks from the tempest, as you 
afford protection to travellers astray.” 

“ Old man,” the woman interrupted roughly ; “ I have 
neither crops nor herds.” 

“ Ah, well, if you are poor, God sheds his blessing on the 
poor in preference to the rich. You will travel down the 
years with your husband, respected, not for your wealth, but 
for your virtues ; your race shall increase and be esteemed of 
men ; your children shall inherit the honors won by their 
father.” 

“ Say no more ! ” exclaimed the hostess. “ Our children 
will be as we are, and will grow old like us, scorned by their 
fellows, and burdened with the curse transmitted in our race 
from generation to generation. Say no more, old man. Bless- 
ings are changed to curses in falling on our heads.” 

“ Oh, heaven ! ” responded the minister ; “ of what race are 
you ? In what crimes do you spend your days ? ” 

“ What are crimes and what is goodness ? We have at 
least one privilege here, we can neither commit crimes nor 
practise virtue.” 

a The woman is disordered in her wits,” said the minister, 
turning to the little hermit, who was drying his woolen robe 
before the fire. 

u No, priest,” the woman went on ; “ you shall hear the 
truth. I would rather excite your horror than your pity. I 
am not mad, but the wife of ” — 

A prolonged and violent knocking at the tower door pre- 
vented the rest of her speech from being heard, to the great 
disappointment of Spiagudry and Ordener, who had been 
silently listening to the conversation. 

“ Curses be upon the lord high justice of Skongen, in for- 
cing us to dwell in this tower, close by the highway,” said the 
red woman, between her teeth. “ Perhaps it isn’t Nychol 
yet. After all,” she continued, taking up the lamp, “ if it is 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


119 


another traveller, what does it matter ? The stream flows on 
after the torrent has lost its fury.” 

Left to themselves, the four travellers looked at one another 
in the firelight. Spiagudry, who at first had been alarmed 
when the hermit had spoken, and then reassured at the sight 
of his black beard, would perhaps have begun to tremble 
again, if he had been conscious of the piercing scrutiny cast 
upon him from under the monkish hood. The minister broke 
the silence with a question, — 

“ Brother hermit^ I take you to be one of the Catholic 
priests exiled in the last persecution, and I suppose you were 
returning to your retreat when I had the good fortune to meet 
with you. Can you tell me where we are ? ” 

Before the hermit made any reply, the rickety door to the 
dismantled staircase Opened. 

“ Nothing but a storm is needed, wife, to bring a crowd beg- 
ging for a seat at our abhorrent table and for a shelter under 
our accursed roof.” 

“Nychol,” the woman responded, “ I could not prevent ” — 
“ And what matters it, how many guests we have, if they 
only pay ? Gold is as well earned in caring for a traveller’s 
needs as in strangling a brigand.” 

The speaker paused before the door, and the four strangers 
could examine his appearance at their leisure. He was a man 
of colossal stature, and, like the hostess, was dressed in red 
serge. His enormous head seemed to spring directly from 
his broad shoulders, quite in contrast with the long and bony 
neck of his gracious spouse. His forehead was low, his nose 
flat, his eyebrows thick, and his eyes, surrounded by a 
purplish ring, blazed like fire reflected in blood. The lower 
part of his face was cleanly shaved, and his big wide mouth 
opened in a hideous grin, the black lips parting like the edges 
of an incurable wound. Tufts of frizzled hair hanging from 
his jaws gave a rectangular form to his head, when seen from 
the front. He wore a gray felt hat, which was dripping with 
rain; and he barely touched its brim with his hand, in saluta- 
tion to the four travellers. 


120 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


At the sight of the newcomer, Benignus Spiagudry uttered 
a cry of alarm ; and the Lutheran minister turned away in 
surprise and horror, as the master of the dwelling recognized 
and addressed him. 

“What ? You here, my good minister! Truth to tell, I 
did not expect to have the pleasure of seeing your pitiful and 
frightened face a second time to-day.” 

The minister repressed a gesture of repugnance, and his 
features took on a calm and serious expression. 

“And I rejoice, my son, that fortune has once more brought 
the shepherd to the wandering sheep, doubtless with the pur- 
pose of bringing the sheep back to the fold.” 

“ Oho, by Hainan’s gallows,” the other responded, with an 
outburst of laughter, “ this is the first time that I have ever 
been compared to a sheep ! Believe me, father, if you want 
to flatter the vulture, you must not call him a pigeon.” 

“ He through whose means the vulture is made dove-like, 
my son, deals in consolation and not in flattery. You think 
that I am afraid of j^ou, but I only pity you.” 

“ In that case, sir priest, it must truly be that you are well 
supplied with pity. I might have thought that you expended 
it all upon that poor devil whom you confronted to-day with 
a crucifix, that he might not see the gallows.” 

“ That unfortunate wretch,” the priest responded, “ was less 
to be pitied than you ; for he wept, and you only laugh. 
Happy is he who in the moment of expiation realizes how 
much less powerful is the arm of man than the word of 
God.” 

“Well said, father,” the host retorted, with horrible and 
ironic mirth. “ The man who wept ! That man of ours to- 
day has committed no other crime except that of loving the 
king so dearly that he could not live without making his 
majesty’s portrait on little copper medals, and then gilding 
them artistically, to render them more worthy of the royal 
effigy. Our gracious sovereign has not been ungrateful, and 
has rewarded this excessive devotion with a fine hempen 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


121 


rope, which, for the information of my honorable guests, 
I may explain, was to-day conferred upon him in the public 
square at Skongen by myself, the grand chancellor of the 
Order of the Gallows, assisted by this good gentleman here, 
the grand chaplain of the same order.” 

“ Wretch, be silent!” the priest interrupted. “Shall the 
agent of punishment defy punishment ? Listen to the 
thunder ” — 

“ Ah, well, what is thunder ? Satan’s laugh.” 

“ Great God, he just now looked upon death, and he blas- 
phemes ! ” 

“ A truce to sermons, you old crazy-pate,” the host ex- 
claimed, in a loud and almost wrathful voice, “ unless you 
would curse the angel of darkness, who twice within twelve 
hours has brought us together on the same vehicle and under 
the same roof. Pattern yourself after your comrade, the 
hermit, who keeps silence, since he desires greatly to get back 
to his cave at Lynrass. I thank you, brother hermit, for the 
blessing which I have seen you bestow upon the accursed 
tower every morning, in your journey over the hill. And 
yet, to tell the truth, it always seemed to me until now that 
you were quite tall, and that black beard to me looked white. 
You are the hermit of Lynrass, the sole hermit of Dron- 
theimhus, — is it not so ? ” 

“ I am, indeed, the only one,” said the hermit, in rumbling 
tones. 

“ In that case,” the host responded, “ we are the two loneli- 
est men in the province. Here, Bechlie, hurry up with that 
quarter of lamb, for I am hungry. I was detained at Bur- 
lock by that cursed Doctor Manryll, who wanted to give me 
only twelve ascalins for the bodj^. Why, that infernal old 
Spladgest keeper, at Drontheim, gets forty. Holloa, my good 
man with the wig, what’s the matter ? You almost fell over 
backwards. By the way, Bechlie, have you finished up that 
skeleton of the famous poisoner and magician, Orgivius ? It 
is time it was sent to the museum of curiosities at Bergen. 


122 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


Have you sent one of your little wild boars to the syndic of 
Lœvig, to collect what he owes me ? — four double crowns, 
for boiling a sorceress and two alchemists, and taking the 
shackles which they had bewitched away from his court- 
room ; twenty ascalins for hanging Ismael Typhainus, the 
J ew, of whom the reverend bishop complained ; and a crown 
for making a new wooden arm for the town gallows.” 

“ The dues are still in the syndic’s hands,” the woman 
responded sharply, “ because your son forgot the wooden cup 
to receive it in, and the judge’s valet refused to put it on his 
naked palm.” 

“ If their necks come under my hands,” said the husband, 
with frowning brows, “ they’ll find out whether or not a 
wooden cup is needed to touch them. We must be easy with 
the syndic, though. That case of Ivar, the robber, has been 
referred to him. Ivar complains that he was put to the ques- 
tion, not by an inquisitor, but by me ; and he declares that, as 
he had not been tried, he was not infamous. By the way, 
wife, don’t let your little ones play with my tongs and pin- 
cers ; they have got all my instruments out of order, so that 
to-day I couldn’t do anything with them. Where are the little 
rascals ? ” the host went on, approaching the pile of straw 
where Spiagudry thought he had seen the three dead bodies. 
“ Here they are, snug in bed ; they sleep, in spite of the 
noise, as soundly as three gallows birds.” 

From these speeches, the horror of which contrasted with 
the frightful tranquillity and atrocious gayety of the one who 
uttered them, the reader has perhaps recognized the tenant 
of Vygla tower. Spiagudry, who recognized him at his first 
appearance, having seen him often taking part in woeful 
ceremonies in Hrontheim square, came near to fainting with 
terror, especially when he remembered the personal motive 
which, since the night before, made him more than ever in 
dread of this terrible functionary. He leaned towards Or- 
dener, and said, in a scarcely audible voice, — 

’Tis Nychol Orugix, the Drontheimhus executioner ! ” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


123 


Ordener was at first struck with horror, and tremblingly 
regretted that he was not out on the highway in the storm ; 
but this feeling soon gave place to one of curiosity, and, while 
he sympathized with his old guide’s embarrassment and alarm, 
he gave his entire attention to the speech and bearing of the 
strange creature before him, much as one listens eagerly to 
the growling of a hyena or the roaring of a tiger, transferred 
from the desert to a city street. Poor Benignus was too much 
distracted to give his mind to psychological observations. 
Hiding behincl Ordener, he drew his cloak lightly about him, 
felt anxiously of the plaster over his eye, drew the back portion 
of his flowing wig over his face, and fairly gasped for breath. 

Meanwhile, the hostess had served up a great platter of 
roasted lamb, the hind quarter still bearing its reassuring tail. 
The executioner took his place opposite to Ordener and Spia- 
gudry, and between the two priests ; while his wife, after pla- 
cing a pitcher of mead, a hunk of rindebrod, 1 and five wooden 
plates on the table, stationed herself near the fire, and gave 
her attention to the sharpening of her husband’s notched and 
jagged tools. 

“ There, reverend minister,” said Orugix, with a laugh ; 
“ the sheep offers you some lamb. And you, my good man 
with the wig, was it the wind that cast your headgear over 
your face in that way ? ” 

“ The wind — good sir, the storm ” — the trembling Spi- 
agudry stammered. 

“ Courage, then, old man. You see that these honorable 
priests and I don’t stand on ceremony. Tell us who you are, 
and who your young and taciturn companion is, and give us a 
little conversation. Let’s get acquainted. If your talk justi- 
fies what one may expect from your appearance, you ought to 
be extremely entertaining.” 

“ Our host is facetious,” said the keeper, drawing up his 
lips, showing his teeth, and winking one eye, with a semblance 
of mirth. “ I am nothing but a poor old man.” 

1 Bread made of ground bark, eaten by the poor people of Norway. 


124 


BANS OF ICELAND. 


“ Yes/’ the jovial executioner interposed, “some old scholar, 
some old sorcerer.” 

“ Oh, my good host, a scholar, yes — but a sorcerer, no ! ” 

“ So much the worse ; a sorcerer would just make up our 
festive Sanhedrim. My honorable guests, let us drink to the 
health of the venerable sage who is going to cheer up our 
supper. Here’s to the health of the man I hanged to-day, 
brother preacher ! How is this, father hermit ; you refuse to 
drink my beer ? ” 

The hermit had taken from beneath his robe a large gourd, 
containing water clear as crystal, and from it had filled his 
glass. 

“ By the gods, hermit of Lynrass,” the executioner ex- 
claimed, “ if you will not taste my beer, I shall have a sup of 
the water you have there.” 

“ So be it,” the hermit responded. 

“ Take off your glove, first, reverend father,” the execu- 
tioner requested. “We only pour drink with the bare 
hand.” 

“ It’s a vow,” said the hermit, with a gesture of refusal. 

“ Pour on, all the same,” said the executioner. 

Scarcely had Orugix got the cup to his lips, when he put 
it quickly down, while the hermit emptied his at a draught. 

u By the cup of the Crucified, reverend hermit, what is this 
infernal liquor ? Never have I drunk its like, since the day 
when I came near drowning on the voyage from Copenhagen 
to Drontheim. In good truth, that’s no water from Lynrass 
spring, hermit ; that’s sea-water.” 

“ Sea-water ! ” Spiagudry repeated, with increasing terror, 
as he looked at the hermit’s glove. 

“ Well, well,” said the executioner, turning toward him with 
a shout of laughter, “ everything seems to frighten you here, 
my old Absalom, even the drink of this holy cenobite, who is 
doing penance.” 

“ Alas, no, my good host. But sea-water — only one 
man ” — 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


125 


“ There, there, you don’t know what you’re talking about, 
venerable doctor. If you are uneasy in this company, you 
must have a bad conscience, or be very contemptuous in your 
ideas.” 

These words, uttered Avith some degree of irritation, re- 
minded Spiagudry of the necessity for dissimulating his 
terror, to appease the feelings of his redoubtable host. He 
had recourse to his vast learning, and rallied Avhat little 
presence of mind still remained to him. 

“ Contemptuous ? I, contemptuous of you, honorable mas- 
ter ; of you, whose presence in any province gives it the 
merum imperium of you, executor of high justice, Avielder 
of secular vengeance, sword of uprightness, buckler of inno- 
cence; of you, whom Aristotle, in the last chapter of book 
six of his Politics , classes among the magistrates, and whose 
guerdon Paris of Puteo, in his treatise, De Syndico , fixes at 
five golden crowns, as witness the passage, quinque aureos 
manivolto ; of you, good sir, whose colleagues at Cronstadt 
are awarded rank in the nobility, after they have cut off 
three hundred heads ; of you, whose terrible but honorable 
functions are fulfilled proudly in Franconia by the latest 
bridegroom, at Rautlingen by the youngest counsellor, at 
Stedien by the latest installed burgess ! And am I not still 
further aware, my good master, that your colleagues in France 
have the right of havadium over e\ r ery patient at Saint- 
Ladre, over the swine, and over the Epiphany cakes ? Why 
should I not have a most profound respect for you, Avhen the 
Abbé of Saint-Germain-des-Pres gives you a pig’s head every 
year on St. Vincent’s Hay, and has you walk at the head of 
the procession ? ” 

At this point the keeper’s flood of erudition was roughly 
cut short by the executioner. 

“ By my faith, this is the first news I have had of it ! The 
learned abbé, of whom you speak, my reverend friend, has 
thus far defrauded me of all the delectable prerogatives 
1 The established right to have an executioner. 


126 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


which you have so seductively depicted. Honorable guests,” 
Orugix went on, “ without stopping to consider the fulsome 
sayings of this old fool here, it is true that I have failed in 
my career. To-day I am nothing but the humble executioner 
of an obscure province. Well, I ought certainly to have 
attained to higher dignities than Stillison Dickoy, the famous 
Muscovite headsman. Would you believe me to be the same 
man who, twenty-four years ago, was ordered to preside at 
the execution of Schumacher ? ” 

“ Of Schumacker, Count of Griffenfeld ? ” exclaimed Or- 
dener. 

“ That seems to astonish you, Master Say-nothing. Well, 
yes ; the same Schumacker, whom, strangely enough, fortune 
is likely again to bring into my hands, in case it pleases the 
king to cancel the reprieve. Let us empty the pitcher, 
gentlemen, and I will tell you how it came to pass that, after 
making such a resplendent beginning-, I have ended up so 
miserably. 

“ I was in 1676 attendant to Rhum Stuald, royal execu- 
tioner at Copenhagen. When the Count of Griffenfeld was 
sentenced, my master had fallen ill; and thanks to certain 
friendly interests, I was selected to take his place on that 
memorable occasion. On the fifth of June, — I shall never 
forget that day, — aided by the master of minor duties, 1 about 
five o’clock in the morning, I was erecting the grand scaffold 
in the citadel square, and draping it in black, out of respect 
for the condemned. At eight o’clock the royal guard sur- 
rounded the structure, and the Schleswig Uhlans held back 
the crowd ? which was thronging into the square. Who, in 
my place, would not have been intoxicated with pride ! I 
stood erect, sabre in hand, upon the platform ; every eye was 
fixed upon me, and at that moment I was the most impor- 
tant personage in the two kingdoms. ‘ My fortune is made/ 
I said ; * for without me, what would all these great lords, who 
have sworn to destroy the chancellor, be able to accomplish ? 9 

1 Builder of scaffolds. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


127 


I already saw myself appointed to the post of royal execu- 
tioner at the capital, surrounded by attendants and privileges. 
Now the citadel clock strikes ten. The condemned man 
emerges from the prison, crosses the square, and mounts the 
scaffold, with a firm step and tranquil bearing. I want to 
tie back his hair ; but he pushes me aside, and performs that 
last office for himself. 

“ ‘ It is a long time/ he said, with a smile, to the prior of 
St. Andrews, ‘ since I dressed my own hair.’ I offer him the 
black bandage ; he declines it, with an expression of disdain, 
but he shows no scorn toward me. 

“ ‘ My friend,’ he says, ‘ this is probably the first time that 
the two officers at the opposite extremes of the judiciary, the 
chancellor and the executioner, have met within so scant a 
space.’ Those words stick fast in my memory. He also 
refuses the black cushion, which I wanted to place under his 
knees ; embraces the priest, and kneels down, after declaring 
his innocence in a loud voice. 

“ Then, with a club, I broke the shield bearing his coat of 
arms, proclaiming, according to custom, ‘This is not done, 
save for just cause ! ’ This ceremony shattered the count’s 
stolidity. He turned pale, but quickly responded, ‘What 
the king has given, the king has the right to take away.’ 
He rested his head upon the block, with his eyes turned 
toward the east, and I raised my sword with both hands. 
Listen carefully ! At that moment a shout comes to my ears. 

‘ A pardon, in the king’s name, — a pardon for Schumacker ! ’ 
I turn around. An aide-de-camp was galloping toward the 
scaffold, waving a parchment. The count gets up with an 
expression, not so much of joy, as of satisfaction. The parch- 
ment is handed to him. ‘ Just God,’ he cries, ‘ imprisonment 
for life ! This pardon is worse than death.’ 

“ He descends, as shamefacedly as a thief, from the scaffold 
which he had so serenely mounted. But it was all the same 
to me. I did not realize then that this man’s salvation would 
be my ruin. After having taken down the scaffold, I re- 


128 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


i 


turned, still hopeful, to my master’s house, though a little 
disappointed at the loss of the gold crown, which was the 
price for cutting off a head. That was not all. The next 
day I received orders of dismissal, and an appointment as the 
provincial executioner of Drontheimhus. Provincial execu- 
tioner, and in the most remote portion of Norway ! 

11 Now, observe, gentlemen, what momentous results may 
arise from the most insignificant causes. The count’s enemies, 
in order to make a display of clemency, had so arranged mat- 
ters that the reprieve should arrive a moment after the 
execution. They failed by just a minute; and for this they 
blamed my tardiness, as if it would have been decent to pre- 
vent so illustrious a personage from getting what comfort he 
could out of the few moments preceding the last, and as if 
a royal executioner could decapitate a grand chancellor with 
as little ceremony as a provincial hangman could string up a 
Jew! There was jealousy in it too. I have a brother, — 
and, by the way, I believe he is still living. He succeeded, 
by changing his name, in getting a place in the household of 
the new chancellor, the Count of Ahlefeld. My presence at 
Copenhagen was offensive to this scoundrel. My brother 
had no love for me, because some day it might fall to me to 
hang him.” 

Here the smooth-tongued talker paused, to give vent to his 
mirth, and then went on. 

“ You see, my dear guests, that I have reconciled myself to 
my trade. After all, to the devil with ambition. Here I 
carry on my business honestly. I sell the corpses that I get ; 
or Bechlie cleans up the skeletons, and I sell them to the 
Museum of Anatomy at Bergen. I make sport of everything, 
even of that poor woman, who has been no better than she 
should be, and who is almost crazed by solitude. My three 
heirs are being brought up in the fear of the devil and the 
gallows. My name is a terror to all the little children in 
Drontheimhus. The syndics furnish me with a cart and red 
clothes. The accursed tower keeps off the rain as well as 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


129 


a palace. The old priests, who are blown in here by the 
storm, preach to me, and the scholars flatter me. In a word, 
I am as happy as anybody; I drink, I eat, I hang, and I 
sleep.” 

The executioner did not reach the end of this prolonged 
discourse without numerous libations of beer, and noisy ex- 
plosions of laughter. 

“ He slays and he sleeps,” the minister murmured ; “ mis- 
guided wretch ! ” 

“ The rascal ought to be happy ! ” exclaimed the hermit. 

“ Yes, brother hermit,” said the executioner, “I am poor, 
like you, but certainly far happier. I assure you, the trade 
would be à good one, if people didn’t take so much pleasure 
in preventing me from getting my just dues. Would you 
believe, that, because of some fashionable wedding, the newly 
appointed chaplain at Drontheim has petitioned for the par- 
don of twelve convicts, who really ought to be turned over to 
me ? ” 

“ Turned over to you ! ” exclaimed the minister. 

“Yes, of course, father. Seven of them were to be 
scourged, two branded on the left cheek, and three hanged, — 
that makes twelve altogether. Yes, there are twelve crowns 
and thirty ascalins that I lose, if the petition is granted. 
W T hat do you think, my good friends, of a chaplain who dis- 
poses of my property ? The cursed priest is named Atha- 
nasius MuUder. Wouldn’t I like to get hold of him ! ” 

The minister got up, and said gently and coolly, “ My son, 
I am Athanasius Munder.” 

At this speech the face of Orugix flamed with wrath, and 
he sprang quickly from his seat; then his angry stare met 
the chaplain’s calm and benevolent glance, and he sat slowly 
down again, speechless and embarrassed. Silence followed 
for a moment. Ordener, who had risen from the table to 
defend the priest, was the first to break it. 

“ Nychol Orugix,” he said, “ here are thirteen crowns, to 
make good to you the loss of the pardoned convicts.” 


130 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ Alas,” the minister interposed, “ who knows if I shall be 
able to obtain the pardon ? I must get an audience with the 
viceroy’s son, for everything depends upon his marriage with 
the chancellor’s daughter.” 

“Keverend chaplain,” the young man responded gravely, 
(( you will secure it. Ordener Guldenlew will not receive the 
wedding-ring until the shackles of the bondsmen are broken.” 

“ Young stranger, you can do nothing; but God hears and 
will recompense you ! ” 

Meanwhile Ordener’s thirteen crowns, joined to the priest’s 
benevolent expression, had completely mollified Nychol, and 
he became quite jovial again. 

“ See here, reverend chaplain, you’re a fine fellow, worthy 
to officiate at St. Hilarion’s chapel. My words were stronger 
than my thoughts. You keep faithfully to your path, and it’s 
no fault of yours if it crosses mine. But the one I would like 
to get hold of is the keeper of the morgue at Drontheim, that 
old sorcerer of the Spladgest. Let’s see, what’s his name ? 
Spliugry ? Spadugry ? Tell me, my learned doctor ; you are 
a Babel of knowledge, and have all learning at your tongue’s 
end, — can’t you aid me to think of the sorcerer’s name ? — 
he is a colleague of yours. You must have met him now and 
then, on a demon’s holiday, riding the air astride of a broom- 
stick.” 

It is certain that, if poor Benignus had been able to escape 
at that moment upon an aerial steed of any kind, he would 
with the greatest pleasure have intrusted himself to so fragile 
and abhorrent a mode of locomotion. Love of life had never 
been developed so strongly in him, as it was now in his con- 
sciousness of imminent danger. Everything that met his eye 
was a source of alarm, — the associations connected with the 
accursed tower, the red woman’s maddening inspection, the 
hermit’s voice and gloves and mysterious drink, his young 
companion’s venturesome audacity, and especially the execu- 
tioner, into whose retreat he had stumbled as a fugitive with 
a sense of guilt upon him. He trembled so violently that any 


U AN 8 OF ICELAND. 


131 


voluntary movement was impossible, especially when the con- 
versation turned upon his own identity, and he heard Orugix’s 
formidable denunciation. As he had no desire whatever to 
imitate the priest’s heroism, his stammering tongue was long 
in finding any response. 

“ Well,” the executioner went on, “do you know the Splad- 
gest keeper’s name ? Does your wig make you deaf? ” 

“ Somewhat, my good master. But,” he added at length, 
“ I do not know his name, that I swear to you.” 

“ He does not know it ? ” the hermit exclaimed, in his 
terror-inspiring voice. “ The oath is false. The man’s name 
is Benignus Spiagudry.” 

“ What, mine ! Great God ! ” the old man cried, in horror. 

“ Who said it was your name ? ” the executioner demanded, 
with an outburst of laughter. “ ’Tis that pagan of a keeper 
that we are speaking of. Of a truth, this pedagogue is fright- 
ened at nothing. What would become of him if his droll 
grimaces had any serious cause ? It would be great sport to 
hang such an old fool. And so, venerable doctor,” the execu- 
tioner went on, delighted at his victim’s terror, “ you are not 
acquainted with Benignus Spiagudry ? ” 

“ No, master,” said the keeper, somewhat reassured by this 
question ; “ I am not acquainted with him, I assure you ; and 
since he has had the misfortune to displease you, I should be 
very sorry indeed to make his acquaintance at all.” 

“But you seem to be acquainted with him, reverend her- 
mit ? ” Orugix continued. 

“ Yes, I know him very well,” the hermit responded. “ He 
is tall, old, thin, and bald.” 

Spiagudry was justly alarmed at this portrait, and hastened 
to rearrange his wig. 

“ He has long hands,” the hermit went on, “ as long as 
those of a thief who has not fallen in with a traveller for a 
week ; he is round-shouldered,” — Spiagudry did his best to 
stand perfectly erect, — “ in fact, one might take him for one 
of the bodies he has charge of, if it were not for the bril- 


132 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


liancy of his eyes. 7 ’ Spiagudry put up his hands to the pro- 
tecting plaster. 

“ Thanks, father, 77 said the executioner to the hermit ; “ 1 
shall be able to recognize the old Jew now wherever I meet 
him. 77 

Spiagudry, who was a very devoted Christian, was greatly 
offended at this unbearable insult, and could not repress an 
exclamation, — 

. “ Jew, master ! 77 Then he shut his mouth quickly, fearing 

that he had said too much. 

“ Ah, well, Jew or pagan, what does it matter, if he has 
dealings with the devil, as people say ? 77 

“I could willingly believe that, 77 the hermit responded, 
with an ironical smile that his hood did not wholly conceal, 
“ if he were not such an arrant coward. But how could he 
get on friendly terms with Satan ? He is as poor-spirited as 
he is wicked ; and, when fear gets hold of him, he doesn’t 
know what he is about. 77 

The hermit spoke slowly, as if he were disguising his voice, 
and the measured way in which he uttered his words gave 
them an extraordinary significance. 

“ Doesn’t know what he is about ! 77 Spiagudry repeated to 
himself. 

“ I am sorry that such a rascal should be so cowardly, 77 
said the executioner; “he’s not worth the trouble of being 
hated. A serpent one can fight with, but a lizard can only 
be crushed.” 

“But, my good friends,” interposed Spiagudry, hazarding 
a few words in his own defence, “are you sure that the 
public official of whom you speak is such a man as you 
represent him to be ? Has his reputation ? 77 — 

“ His reputation,” the hermit interposed ; “ he has the 
most abominable reputation in the whole province ! ” 

“My good master,” said Benignus, in his disappointment 
turning to the executioner, “ what wrong has he done to you ? 
For I suppose your hatred has some valid cause.” 


SANS OF ICELAND. 


133 


“You are right, old man, in that supposition. Spiagudry 
is in much the same trade that I am, and he does all that he 
can to injure me.” 

“ Oh, master, do not think that ; or, if ’tis so, it is because 
he has not seen you, as I have, with your gracious wife and 
charming children about you, and granting the hospitality of 
your domestic fireside to strangers. If, like me, he had 
enjoyed a cordial welcome to your home circle, it would be 
impossible that the unfortunate man should longer be your 
enemy.” 

Spiagudry had barely finished with this adroit speech, when 
the tall woman, who until then had taken no part in the dis- 
cussion, stood up, and said in shrilly solemn tones, — 

“The viper’s fangs are never more venomous than when 
they are coated with honey.” 

Then she sat down again, and went on sharpening the tools, 
the rasping, strident sounds which accompanied the opera- 
tion filling in the intervals of talk and taking the part of the 
chorus of a Greek tragedy, greatly to the discomfort of the 
four travellers’ sense of hearing. 

“ The woman is certainly mad ! ” the keeper muttered to 
himself, not being able to explain otherwise the ill effects of 
his flattery. 

“ Bechlie is right, my light-haired doctor ! ” exclaimed the 
executioner. “ I shall look for the viper’s fangs, if you go on 
much longer praising Spiagudry.” 

“ God forbid, master,” exclaimed the other, “ that I should 
find anything in him to praise.” 

“ Very well ; you have little idea how far he carries his 
influence. Would you believe that the impudent fellow has 
the temerity to dispute with me my claims upon Hans of Ice- 
land ? ” 

“Upon Hans of Iceland ? ” said the hermit quickly. 

“ Why, yes. Are you acquainted with that famous 
brigand ? ” 

“ Yes,” said the hermit. 


1B4 


IIANS OF ICELAND. 


“Well, every brigand gets to the hangman, — is not that 
so ? What does that infernal Spiagudry do ? He asks 
that a price be put on Hans’s head.” 

“Asks to have a price put on Hans’s head?” the hermit 
inquired. 

“ Yes, he has had the face to do that, and simply for the 
reason that the body may fall to him, and I be cheated out of 
my rights.” 

“ But this is infamous, master Orugix, to dare to dispute 
with you a right which is so evidently your own ! ” The 
words were accompanied by a malicious smile that alarmed 
Spiagudry. 

“The game is all the meaner, hermit, because I have need 
of just such an execution as that which Hans would afford 
me, to bring me out of my obscurity and set me on the road 
to fortune, which I failed of with Schum acker.” 

“ Is it indeed so, master Nychol ?” 

“ Yes, brother hermit. If you will come and see me on the 
day of Hans’s arrest, we will serve up a fat pig in honor of 
my future elevation.” 

“ By all means ; but do you feel sure that I shall be at 
liberty on that day ? Moreover, did you not just now de- 
spatch ambition to the devil ? ” 

“No doubt, I did, father, when I realized that Spiagudry 
and an offer of head money were enough to destroy my most 
cherished hopes.” 

“Ah,” the hermit went on, with a peculiar intonation, 
“ Spiagudry requested the offering of head money ! ” 

The voice had the same effect upon the poor man that a 
toad’s stare has on a bird. 

“ Oh, gentlemen,” he said, “ why do you judge so rashly ? 
That is not confirmed, and the rumor may be false.” 

“The rumor may be false!” exclaimed Orugix. “The 
thing is only too certain. The syndics’ petition is even now 
at Drontheim, bearing the signature of the Spladgest keeper. 
They are only awaiting the governor’s decision.” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


135 


The executioner had the fact so exactly, that Spiagudry 
did not dare to pursue his justification. He contented him- 
self for the hundredth time with privately cursing his young 
companion. But what were his emotions, when he heard the 
hermit, after a few moments of ostensible meditation, sud- 
denly inquire in an ironical tone, — 

“ Tell me, master Nychol, what’s the punishment for 
sacrilege ? ” 

These words had much the same effect upon Spiagudry as 
if some one had suddenly snatched off his plaster and wig. 
He waited anxiously for the response, which Orugix did not 
give until he had emptied his cup. 

“ That depends on the kind of sacrilege,” the executioner 
replied. 

“ If it is the desecration of a body ? ” 

At any moment the shivering Benignus expected to hear 
his name uttered by the incomprehensible hermit. 

“ Formerly,” said Orugix coolly, “ the guilty one was 
buried alive with the mutilated body.” 

“ And now ? ” 

“ Now, it is much less severe.” 

“ Much less severe ! ” said Spiagudry, scarcely daring to 
breathe. 

“ Yes,” the executioner went on, with the off-hand manner 
of an artist at home in his art ; “ first they brand him with 
a hot iron, with a letter S, on the plumpest part of his 
leg.” 

“ And then ? ” interrupted the old keeper, upon whom it 
would have been difficult to carry out that part of the punish- 
ment. 

“Then,” said the executioner, “ they are satisfied with 
simply hanging him.” 

“Heaven have mercy,” exclaimed Spiagudry; “they hang 
him ! ” 

“Well, what of it? You look at me as a convict looks at 
the gallows.” 


HANS OF I C FLA NIX 


m 

“ It is pleasant to find/’ said the hermit, “ that we have 
returned to humane principles.” 

At that moment, the storm having subsided, they heard 
very distinctly outside the clear and intermittent tones of a 
horn. 

“Nychol,” said the woman, “they are in pursuit of some 
criminal. That is the archers’ horn. 

“ The archers’ horn ! ” each of the men repeated in a differ- 
ent accent, Spiagudry with that of unmitigated terror. The 
exclamation had barely escaped them, when there was a 
knock at the tower door. 


NANS OF ICELAND. 


137 


CHAPTER XIII 


Given a man and a signal, and the elements of a revolution are in readiness. 

Who will begin ? As soon as a standing-point is found, the turmoil is in 

full swing. — Bonaparte. 

Lcevig is a large town, on the northern shore of Drontheim 
bay, and is backed by a low line of treeless hills, which are 
curiously marked off by cultivated fields, so that they look 
like great pieces of mosaic set up against the horizon. The 
appearance of the town is unenlivening. The thatched 
wooden cabins of the fishermen ; the conical huts of mud and 
stone, where the worn-out miners pass the few days of old 
age that their savings permit them to spend in sunlight and 
repose ; the flimsy framework which the chamois hunter 
covers with straw and walls in with the skins of beasts, — 
these line the streets, which are much longer than the town is 
wide, owing to their narrow and tortuous windings. In the 
main square, where nothing now remains but the ruins of a 
great tower, then stood the ancient fortress, built by Horva 
the master archer, suzerain of Lcevig and brother-in-arms to 
the pagan king, Halfdan. In 1698 it was occupied by the 
town syndic, who was the most comfortably installed person 
in the place, with the exception of the silver stork, which 
every summer perched at the top of the pointed church spire, 
like a white pearl fastened at the apex of a mandarin’s hat. 

The very same day that Ordener arrived at Drontheim, a 
traveller, also incognito, made his appearance at Lcevig. His 
gilded litter, although without armorial bearings, and his four 
tall lackeys armed to the teeth, suddenly became a general 
theme of discussion and curiosity. The host of the Golden 
Seagull, the small inn at which this important personage 


188 


BANS OF ICELAND. 


was stopping, became very mysterious in his manner, and to 
all questions responded, “ I don’t know,” with an expression 
which was as much as to say, “ I know very well, but you 
sha’n’t be any the wiser.” The tall lackeys were as uncom- 
municative as fish, and gloomier than a mining-shaft. At 
first the syndic had shut himself up in his tower, waiting in 
his dignity for the stranger to make the first advances ; but 
before long his fellow-townsmen were surprised to see him 
present himself twice, without being received, at the Golden 
Seagull, and in the evening watching for a chance to salute 
the traveller, as he leaned from his partly open window. 
From these circumstances, the gossips inferred that the new- 
comer had informed the syndic concerning his rank ; but they 
were mistaken. The stranger had sent a messenger to the 
syndic to get his passport indorsed, and the syndic had 
observed that the big green wax seal upon the document 
bore the crossed hands of justice, supporting an ermine 
mantle, surmounted by a count’s coronet on a shield, with the 
collars of the Elephant and of Dannebrog on either side. This 
sight was enough for the syndic, who was very desirous of 
securing from the grand chancellor’s office an appointment as 
syndic-in-chief for all Drontheimhus. But he had his labor for 
his pains, for the unknown nobleman would not see anybody. 

The second day following the stranger’s arrival at Lœvig 
was drawing to a close, when the landlord entered his room, 
and with a humble bow announced that the messenger awaited 
by his excellency had just arrived. 

“ Very good,” said his excellency ; “ show him up.” 

A moment later the messenger entered, closed the door 
carefully, and then, bowing low to the stranger, who sat with 
his face partly turned to one side, waited in respectful silence 
until he should be spoken to. 

“ I expected you this morning,” said the unknown ; “ what 
detained you ? ” 

“ Your excellency’s interests, my lord count ; does anything 
else concern me ? ” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


139 


“ What is Elphega doing ? Where is Frederic ? ” 

“ They are very well.” 

“Well, well,” the master interposed, “have you nothing 
more interesting to tell me ? What is the news at Dron- 
theim ? ” 

“Nothing, except that Baron Thorvick arrived there yes- 
terday.” 

“ Yes, I know ; he wanted to consult that old Mecklem- 
burger, Levin, with regard to the projected marriage. Do 
you know what was the result of his interview with the 
governor ? ” 

“ Up to noon, when I left, he had not seen the general.” 

“ What ? And he arrived last night ! You astonish me, 
Musdoemon. And had he seen the countess ? ” 

“ Not at all, my lord.” 

“ Then you saw him yourself ? ” 

“No, my noble master; more than that, I don’t know 
him.” 

“And how, if no one saw him, are you aware that he is at 
Drontheim ? ” 

“ From his servant, who yesterday arrived at the governor’s 
palace.” 

“ But what became of the baron ; did he go somewhere 
else ? ” 

“ The servant assured me that, as soon as he arrived, he 
went to the Spladgest, and then took boat for Munckholm.” 

“ For Munckholm,” said the count, flushing with anger ; 
“ for Schumacker’s prison ! Are you sure ? I always thought 
that smug-faced Levin was a traitor. For Munckholm ! 
What could be the attraction there ? Did he go to take 
counsel with Schumacker ? Did he ” — 

“My noble lord,” interposed Musdoemon, “I am not sure 
that he went there.” 

“ What ? Why, then, did you tell me that he did ? Are 
you trifling with me ? ” 

“Pardon me, your grace, I am simply repeating to your 


140 


HANS ON ICELAND. 


lordship what the honorable baron’s servant said. But my 
lord Frederic, who was officer of the day at the donjon yes- 
terday, did not see Baron Ordener at all.” 

“ What does that amount to ? My son does not know the 
viceroy’s son, and Ordener might have entered the fortress 
incognito.” 

“ Yes, my lord ; but my lord Frederic declares that he saw 
no one.” 

“ That’s different,” said the count, calming down. “ My 
son actually said so ? ” 

“ He assured me of the fact, three times over, and in this 
matter my lord Frederic’s interests are the same as those of 
your grace.” 

This comment on the part of the messenger quite restored 
the count to his good humor. 

“ Ah,” he said, “ I understand. When the baron arrived, he 
wanted to take a little outing on the bay, and his servant 
inferred that he was going to Munckholm. In any event, 
why should he go there ? I was very foolish to get so excited. 
This indifference on the part of my son-in-law toward old 
Levin proves that his affection for him is not so intense as I 
feared. You would not believe, my dear Musdoemon,” the 
count went on, with a smile, “that I had already imagined 
Ordener in love with Ethel Schumacker, and was building up 
a romantic intrigue in connection with the Munckholm jour- 
ney ; but, thank heaven, Ordener is more sane than I. Speak- 
ing of this, my dear Musdoemon, how is the young Danaë 
getting along in Frederic’s hands ? ” 

Musdoemon had been quite as uneasy as his master with 
regard to Ethel Schumacker; and although he had fought 
against his fears, he had not been able to vanquish them 
so easily. He was so gratified, however, at seeing his mas- 
ter in good humor, that he took pains not to disturb his 
feeling of security; and on the contrary sought to confirm 
it, for equanimity of mind is one of the most precious attri- 
butes that greatness can manifest toward its dependents. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


141 


“ Noble count, your son has not been successful with Schu- 
macker’s daughter, but it seems that some one else has been 
more fortunate.” 

“ Some one else ! Who ? ” the count interposed quickly. 

“Oh, I don’t know, — some underling or other, — peasant 
or vassal ” — 

“ Is that true ? ” exclaimed the count, his harsh and sombre 
features becoming radiant. 

“ My lord Frederic told me so, and also the noble countess.” 

The count got up, and walked back and forth across the 
room, rubbing his hands together. 

“ Musdoemon, my dear Musdœmon, one stroke more, and we 
reach the goal. The branch of the tree is withered ; it only 
remains for us to destroy the trunk. Have you any other 
good news ? ” 

“Dispolsen has been assassinated.” 

“ Ah, you see that we progress from triumph to triumph,” 
said the count, his brow now entirely clear. “ Did they get 
his papers, and, above all, the iron box ? ” 

“ It is with regret that I inform your grace that the mur- 
der was not committed by our hirelings. He was killed and 
robbed on Urchtal sands, and the deed is attributed to Hans 
of Iceland.” 

“ Hans of Iceland,” the master repeated, his face again be- 
clouded ; “ what, that notorious brigand, whom we intended to 
put at the head of the revolt ? ” 

“ The same, noble count ; and I am afraid, from what I 
have heard, that we shall have a good deal of trouble in find- 
ing him. In any event, I have made sure of some one to 
assume his name, and act in his place. He is a wild moun- 
taineer, as tall and tough as an oak, as ferocious and daring as 
a wolf of the snow-plains. Such a formidable giant will read- 
ily be taken for Hans of Iceland.” 

“ And is Hans of Iceland a tall man ? ” the count inquired. 

“ That seems to be the popular idea of him, your grace.” 

“ I always admire, my dear Musdœmon, the ingenuity with 


142 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


which you arrange your plans. When is the insurrection to 
take place ? ” 

“ Oh, very soon, your grace, perhaps at this very moment. 
The royal protectorate has long weighed heavily on the miners, 
and they all seized greedily at the idea of an uprising. The 
revolt will begin at Guldbranshal, extend from there to Sund- 
Moër, and then spread to Kongsberg. Two thousand miners 
can be started on the march in three days. The revolt will 
ostensibly be inspired by Schumacker, and our emissaries 
always make use of his name. The reserves in the south, 
and the garrisons at Drontheim and Skongen, will mutiny ; 
and you will be here just at the fortunate moment to crush 
the rebellion, thereby winning new and glorious honors in the 
eyes of the king, and delivering him from Schumacker, who is 
so disturbing an element to the peace and safety of the king- 
dom. Upon such massive foundations the edifice of your 
success will be raised, and its crowning triumph will be the 
marriage of the noble Lady Ulrica with Baron Thorvick.” 

A private interview between two scoundrels never lasts for 
any great length of time, because what little of manhood may 
remain to them is frightened into silence at their own sugges- 
tions of villany. When two degenerate souls exhibit to each 
other their shame in all its native nakedness, they are re- 
volted, each at the other’s foulness. Crime inspires horror in 
the criminal ; and two evil doers, chatting of their passions, 
their pleasures, and their interests, in cynical confidence, con- 
front one another like two hideous mirrors. Reflected in 
another personality, they are humiliated by their own base- 
ness, abashed at their own audacity, and horrified at the 
extent of their own nothingness ; and they cannot get away 
from, or disavow, the likeness, for every odious similarity, 
every detestable coincidence, every hideous point of compari- 
son, draws out the denunciation of the unsparing inner voice 
that is always ringing in their ears. However secluded the 
interview may be, it always has two unendurable witnesses, — 
God, whom they do not see ; and conscience, which they feel. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


143 


A confidential interview with Musdoemon was all the more 
fatiguing for the count, because the other always seemed to 
take it for granted that his master was equally involved with 
himself in any criminal proceedings that were in progress or 
to be undertaken. There are courtiers who believe themselves 
adroit in shielding their superiors from any appearances of 
evil ; they take upon themselves the responsibility for any 
wrong-doing, and even leave to their patrons the modest con- 
solation of an ostensible opposition to the crime by which 
they profit. Musdoemon, by refinement of subtlety, took the 
opposite course. The part he took was rarely that of a coun- 
sellor, and always that of a ready tool. He knew his master’s 
mind as Avell as his master knew his own, and so he never 
compromised himself without compromising the count. After 
Schumacker’^, the head that the count would most gladly have 
seen fall was Musdœmon’s. The servitor knew this as well 
as if his master had told him so in so many words ; and his 
master knew that he knew it. 

The count had learned what he wanted to know, and was 
satisfied. All that remained to him now was to get rid of 
Musdoemon. 

“ Musdoemon,” he said, with a gracious smile, “ you are the 
most faithful and the most zealous of my servitors. Every- 
thing is going on finely, and I owe it to your solicitude. I 
appoint you confidential secretary to the grand chancellor’s 
office.” Musdoemon bowed low. “ That is not all,” the 
count went on ; “ I am going to ask, for the third time, that 
you be awarded the order of Dannebrog ; but I am still afraid 
that your family, your unworthy relative ” — 

Musdoemon turned red, then pale, and concealed these indi- 
cations of emotion by another bow. 

“ Go,” said the count, holding out his hand to be kissed — 
“ go, Mr. Confidential Secretary, and get your placeat ready. 
It may perhaps find the king at a favorable moment.” 

“ Whether his majesty grants it or not, I am overwhelmed 
and flattered at these tokens of your grace’s kindly interest.” 


144 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ Make haste, my dear fellow, for I am in a hurry to get 
away. We must take all possible means to find out exactly 
about Hans.” 

Musdœmon, with a third bow, pulled open the door. 

“ Ah,” said the count, “ I had forgotten. By virtue of 
your new office of confidential secretary, you will write to the 
chancellor’s department, requesting an order of dismissal for 
the syndic of Lœvig, who has compromised his position in the 
district by a multiplicity of ill-bred actions towards strangers, 
of whose rank he knows nothing.” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


145 


CHAPTER XIY. 

Monk who counts the midnight head, 

Knight who spurs the battle steed, 

He who dies mid clarion’s swelling, 

He who dies mid requiem’s knelling, — 

Alike thy care, whose grace is shed 
On cowled scalp and helmed head. 

Hymn to St. Anselm I 

“ Yes, master, we ought by all means to make a pilgrimage 
to Lynrass grotto. Would you have thought that the hermit, 
whom I was cursing for an infernal demon, would turn out to 
be my guardian angel, and that the lance which to us seemed 
such a threatening weapon was in reality to serve us as a 
bridge to carry us over the abyss ? ” 

Thus did Spiagudry, in ridiculously devised figures of 
speech, weary Ordener’s ears with expressions of the joy, 
admiration, and thankfulness he felt for the mysterious her- 
mit. It will be guessed that the two travellers had left the 
accursed tower. At the point where we rejoin them they 
have, in fact, left Vygla far behind them, and are laboriously 
making their way along a hilly road, where frequent pools of 
water and great rocks lying in their path bear witness to the 
ravages of the recent storm. Day had not yet come ; but the 
bushes that surmounted the banks on either side of the road 
stood out in silhouette against the brightening sky, and 
although color was still imperceptible, objects were gradually 
assuming a definite form in the dull, almost turbid light, 
which in northern regions the dawn lets fall through the cold 
mists of morning. 

Ordener kept silence, for he had been for a few moments 


1 Maturin: Bertram . 


146 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


overcome by the somnolence that the automatic movements of 
walking sometimes induce. He had not slept since the morn- 
ing of the previous day, when he had snatched a few hours of 
repose in a fishing-boat, anchored in Drontheim harbor, be- 
tween the time that he left the Spladgest and went to Munck- 
holm. Thus, while his body went on towards Skongen, his 
mind was back in Drontheim bay, in the sombre prison under 
the gloomy towers, where dwelt the only being in the world 
with whom he could associate ideas of hope and happiness. 
When he was awake, memories of Ethel filled his thoughts ; 
when he slept, her radiant figure illuminated his dreams. In 
the second life of sleep, where for a moment the soul is free, 
and the physical personality with all its material limitations 
seems to vanish, he beheld his beloved one, not more lovely 
or more pure, but more free, more happy, more wholly his 
own. 

As he traversed Skongen road, however, his forgetfulness 
of his body and the blunting of his senses could not be com- 
plete ; since from time to time his feet fell into a mud-hole, or 
struck against a stone or a branch of a tree, and recalled him 
rudely from the ideal to the real. Then he would lift up his 
head, open his weary eyes, and regret the conditions that 
brought him down from the region of heavenly fancy to 
the hard requirements of a terrestrial journey, where he had 
nothing to compensate him for his vanished illusions, except 
the thought of the lock of hair that Ethel had given him, 
pressing against his heart, in anticipation of the moment 
when she herself should belong entirely to him ; then this 
thought would bring back her charming image once more, and 
he would again fall softly, not into a dream, but into a vague, 
persistent revery. 

“ Master,” Spiagudry repeated, in a louder voice, which, 
added to the shock of a stumble over a tree-trunk, served 
to arouse Ordener once more, “ master, there is no occasion 
for alarm. The archers, when they left the tower, went to 
the right with the hermit, and we are far enough from them 


IIANS OF ICELAND. 


147 


to converse without fear. Of course it was prudent for a 
time to keep silence.” 

“ Really,” said Ordener, yawning, “you press prudence a 
little too far. It is at least three hours since we left the 
tower and the archers.” 

“ That is true, my lord ; but one can’t be too prudent. 
Suppose that I had revealed my identity at the moment 
when the head of that infernal squad had demanded Benig- 
nus Spiagudry, in a voice very much like that in which 
Saturn demanded his newly born son, that he might devour 
— suppose at that terrible moment I had not availed 
myself of a prudent taciturnity; where should I be now, 
my noble master ? ” 

“ By my faith, old man, I don’t believe that at that mo- 
ment any one would have been able to get hold of your name, 
if he had tried to drag it out of you with pincers.” 

"Was I wrong, master? If I had spoken, the hermit, — 
whom may St. Hospitius and St. Usbald the Solitary, bless, 
— the hermit would not have had time to ask the chief of the 
archers if his squad was not made up of soldiers from Munck- 
holm garrison, — a question of no consequence, asked merely 
to gain time. Did you notice, young master, after the affirm- 
ative response on the part of the stupid archer, with what 
a peculiar smile the hermit invited the others to follow him, 
in telling them that he knew where the fugitive Benignus 
Spiagudry was in hiding.” 

At this point the keeper paused for a moment, as if to 
make a new start; for he suddenly spoke again, in a tone 
of lachrymose enthusiasm, — 

“A good priest, a worthy and virtuous anchorite, who 
practises the principles of Christian kindness and gospel 
charity, — and I was alarmed at his appearance, which in 
fact was sinister enough, but it concealed such a noble soul ! 
Did you also notice, my noble master, that there was some- 
thing peculiar in the way in which he said to me, ‘Till we 
meet again,’ as he pointed out the road to the archers ? 


148 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


Under other conditions, his manner of speaking would have 
alarmed me, but that was not the fault of the pious and 
excellent hermit. Probably solitude has given his voice 
an unusual intonation; for, my lord, I know,” here Benig- 
nus spoke in an undertone, “ I know another recluse, that 
formidable creature that — but no; my respect for the venera- 
ble hermit of Lynrass will not allow me to make such an 
odious comparison. And there was nothing very extraordi- 
nary about those gloves, for it was plenty cold enough to 
wear them, and his saline draught does not surprise me, 
either. Catholic cenobites often have peculiar ways ; and 
this very one, in fact, has had his virtues celebrated in a 
verse by the famous Urensius, the monk of Caucasus, — 

‘Rivos despiciens, maris undam potat amaram.’ 

“ How is it that I didn’t remember that verse when we were 
in that accursed ruin at Yygla ? If my memory had been a 
little more alert, I should have saved myself a good deal 
of foolish uneasiness.. It is difficult, however, — is it not, my 
lord ? — to keep one’s head straight in such a den, and sitting 
at an executioner’s table. An executioner, a creature predes- 
tined to universal contempt and execration, who differs from 
an assassin only by the frequency and impunity of his mur- 
ders, and who in his heart is as atrocious as the most unmiti- 
gated criminals, while he is too cowardly to pattern himself 
after their adventurous deeds ; a creature who offers food 
and drink with the same hand with which he applies instru- 
ments of torture, and cracks the bones of his miserable vic- 
tims between the close-pressing planks of the wooden horse ! 
To breathe the same air with an executioner, when the vilest 
mendicant, if soiled by such a contact, throws away in horror 
the few remaining rags that protect his nakedness and his 
sores against the cold of winter ! And the chancellor, when 
he has put the seal upon his appointment, throws the seals 
under the table, in witness of disgust and malediction ! 

“ Why, in France, when an executioner dies, the sergeants of 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


149 


the prefecture elect to pay a fine of forty livres, rather than 
succeed him. In Pesth a convict named Chorchill was offered 
a pardon if he would accept the post of executioner, but he 
preferred to suffer the penalty of his crimes rather than take 
up with such a trade. Is it not also notorious, my noble 
young lord, that Turmeryn, bishop of Maëstricht, had a 
church reconsecrated after an executioner had entered it, 
and that the Tsarina Betrovna washed her face every time 
she came back from an execution ? You are also aware that 
the French kings decreed, in honor of their soldiers, that they 
should be punished by their comrades, in order that these 
noble men, even when they were criminals, should not be 
made infamous by the executioner’s touch. And lastly, — 
and this is decisive, — in the Descent of St. George into Hell , 
by that eminent scholar, Melasius Iturham, does not Charon 
grant the outlaw, Bobin Hood, precedence over Phlipcrass, 
the hangman ? Of a truth, master, if ever I become an influ- 
ential personage, — and God alone knows as to that, — I shall 
abolish executions, and revive the ancient method and the 
old rates. For the murder of a prince they shall pay, as in 
1150 , fourteen hundred and forty double crowns royal; for 
the murder of a count, fourteen hundred and forty plain 
crowns ; for that of a baron, fourteen hundred and forty low 
crowns ; the murder of an ordinary nobleman will be taxed 
at fourteen hundred and forty ascalins ; and that of a com- 
moner ” — 

“ Do I not hear the sound of a horse’s feet drawing near to 
us ? ” Ordener interrupted. 

They turned their heads ; and as daylight had arrived dur- 
ing Spiagudry’s long and learned soliloquy, they could see a 
man dressed in black a hundred yards behind them, waving 
one hand at them, and with the other urging on one of the 
little dirty-white horses which are so often met with, either 
broken or wild, among the Norway hill districts. 

“ In pity, master,” said the alarmed keeper, “let us hasten; 
that man in black looks to me like an archer,” 


150 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ What, old man, there are two of us, and shall we run 
away from a single pursuer ? ” 

“ Alas, twenty hawks will fly before one owl. What glory 
is there in waiting for an officer of justice ? ” 

“ And who has told you that he is such a one ? ” responded 
Ordener, whose eyes were not dimmed by fear. “ Pluck up 
heart, my worthy guide; I recognize the wayfarer. Let us 
wait.” 

Ordener had his way, and in a moment the horseman drew 
up beside them. Spiagudry ceased to tremble when he recog- 
nized the calm and serious face of the chaplain, Athanasius 
Munder, who saluted them with a smile as he checked his 
steed, and said in a voice that was rendered uneven by his 
rapid breathing, — 

“ My dear children, it is for your sake that I am taking the 
return journey ; and I am confident that, in view of my chari- 
table intentions, Heaven will not permit my absence to be 
prejudicial to those to whom my presence is useful.” 

“ Reverend sir,” Ordener responded, “ we shall be happy 
if we can serve you in any way.” 

“ On the contrary, noble young man, it is I who can be of 
service to you. Will you be kind enough to tell me the object 
of your journey ? ” 

“ That, reverend chaplain, I cannot do.” 

“ I hope, my son, that your refusal is due to lack of power, 
and not to suspicions ; for in the latter case woe be to me, of 
whom a well-intentioned man is suspicious, even after a single 
interview ! ” 

Ordener was deeply touched by the priest’s humility and 
earnestness. 

“ All that I can tell you, father, is that we are making a 
visit to the northern mountains.” 

“ That is what I thought, my son, and that is why I have 
come to you. There are bands of miners and hunters in the 
mountains, and they are often greatly to be dreaded by 
travellers.” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


151 


« Well ? ” 

“ Well, I know that there is no use in trying to persuade a 
noble young man to turn aside when he is in search of danger, 
but the esteem which I have conceived for you has led me to 
think of another way in which I may be of service. The 
wretched counterfeiter to whom I yesterday administered the 
last consolations of heaven was a miner ; and just before his 
death he handed me this parchment, with his name written 
upon it, saying that this passport would guard me from all 
danger if I ever travelled among the mountains. Alas, of 
what service would it be to a poor priest, who will live and 
die among convicts, and who, moreover, inter castra latronum , 
should seek for no other defence except in patience and 
prayer, which are the godly weapons. I did not refuse the 
pass, because I did not wish to wound the generosity of one 
who in a few moments would have nothing more to receive or 
to give here on earth. The good God must have inspired me ; 
for now I bring the parchment to you, trusting that it may 
accompany you upon your adventurous journey, and that the 
gift of the dying man may be a benefit to the traveller.” 

“ Reverend chaplain,” said Ordener, receiving the vener- 
able minister’s present with profound feeling, “ God grant 
that your desire be fulfilled ! Accept my thanks ; but,” he 
added, putting his hand to his sword, “ I already carry my 
passport here, at my side.” 

“ Young man,” said the priest, “ it may be that this fragile 
parchment will protect you better than your sturdy blade. A 
glance from a penitent is often more powerful than an arch- 
angel’s sword. Farewell ; my prisoners await me. I beseech 
you that you will sometimes pray for them and for me.” 

“ Holy priest,” Ordener responded, with a smile, “ I have 
told you that the condemned ones should be pardoned, and 
they shall be.” 

••Oh, my son, do not speak with so much assurance. Do 
not tempt the Lord. One man never knows what is taking 
place in the heart of another, and you are ignorant of the 


152 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


motives that may decide the viceroy’s son. Perhaps, alas, he 
will not even deign to admit a humble chaplain to his pres- 
ence. Farewell, my son ; may your journey be blessed of 
Heaven, and may your noble soul now and then have a 
thought for the poor priest and a prayer for the poor pris- 
oners ! ” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


153 


CHAPTER XV. 

Hugo, well met. Does e’en tliy age 
Bear memory of so terrible a storm ? 

Maturin: Bertram. 


In a room opening out of the governor’s apartments at 
Drontheim, three of his excellency’s secretaries had just 
seated themselves at a black table, covered with parchments, 
paper, seals, and inkstands, while a fourth stool remained 
unoccupied, indicating that one of their number was yet to 
arrive. After they had been for some time occupied with 
their tasks, one of them exclaimed, — 

“Do you know, Wapherney, that Foxtipp, the poor libra- 
rian, is going to be dismissed by the bishop, thanks to the 
petition of Doctor Anglyvius, to which you gave your in- 
dorsement ? ” 

“ What are you saying, Richard ? ” quickly interrupted one 
of the two other secretaries, to whom Richard had not spoken. 
“Wapherney could not have indorsed Anglyvius’s petition, 
for it was strongly objected to by the general when I read it 
to him.” 

“Yes, you told me so,” Wapherney responded; “but I 
found the word tribuatur upon the petition, in his excel- 
lency’s handwriting.” 

“ Is that really so ? ” exclaimed the other. 

“ Yes, my dear fellow ; and several other of the conclusions 
reached by his excellency, of w r hich you have spoken to me, 
were also changed in the marginal notes. For instance, on 
the miners’ petition, the general wrote, Negetur.” 

“ Well, I don’t understand it in the least. The general was 
a good deal alarmed over the turbulent disposition of the 
miners.” 


154 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ Perhaps he wished to impress them by severity. I am the 
more disposed to think so, because Chaplain Munder’s petition 
in behalf of the twelve convicts was also refused.” 

The secretary whom Wapherney was addressing got up 
quickly. 

“ Oh, no, no ; I can’t really believe what you say. The gov- 
ernor is too generous, and has shown too much compassion for 
the convicts, to ” — 

“Very well, Arthur,” was Wapherney’s response, “read 
for yourself.” 

Arthur took the petition, and saw the indubitable indications 
of refusal. 

“Well, now,” he said, “I can scarcely believe my own eyes. 
I shall fake the petition to the general again. When did his 
excellency pass on these petitions ? ” 

“ I should say about three days ago,” responded Wapherney. 

“It was on the morning preceding the sudden appearance 
and mysterious disappearance of Baron Ordener,” said Rich- 
ard, in a low voice. 

“ See here,” Wapherney exclaimed eagerly, before Arthur 
had time to respond, “there is also a tribuatur on the bur- 
lesque petition of that Benignus Spiagudry ! ” 

“ Isn’t that the old corpse-keeper, who also disappeared in 
such a peculiar manner ? ” said Richard, with a laugh. 

“Yes,” responded Arthur; “a mutilated body was found in 
his charnel-house, and the authorities are after him on the 
charge of sacrilege ; but a little Laplander, who was in his 
service, and who was left alone in charge of the Spladgest, 
agrees with the people generally in believing that the sorcerer 
was carried off by the devil.” 

“ That’s what it is to leave a good reputation behind one,” 
said Wapherney laughingly. He had scarcely uttered the 
the last word, when the fourth secretary entered. 

“ On my honor, Gustavus, you are quite late this morning. 
Did you by chance commit matrimony yesterday?” 

“ Oh, no,” interposed Wapherney ; “ he only took the longest 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


155 


road around in order to parade his new cloak before the sweet 
Bosily’s windows.” 

“ Wapherney,” said the newcomer, “I only wish it were as 
you say ; but the cause of my detention was much less agree- 
able, and I doubt if my new cloak had much effect upon the 
persons I have just been visiting.” 

“ Where have you been, then ? ” asked Arthur. 

“To the Spladgest.” 

“ Heaven will bear witness,” exclaimed Wapherney, drop- 
ping his pen, “ that we were speaking of that very place just 
before you came in ; but although one may talk about it for 
the purpose of passing time, I can’t understand why anybody 
should want to go there.” 

“ And less still,” said Bichard, “ why anybody should care 
to stop there. But, my dear Gustavus, what did you see ? ” 

“ Oh, yes,” said Gustavus, “ you are curious to hear, if not 
to see ; and it would be no more than fair if I were to refuse 
to give you an account of the horrors that you are too fastidi- 
ous to look at in person.” 

The three secretaries urged Gustavus eagerly ; and although 
he made a show of declining, his desire to describe what he 
had seen was no less ardent than their wish to hear his story. 

“Well, Wapherney, you can take this account to your little 
sister, who is so fond of hearing about horrors. I was at- 
tracted to the Spladgest by seeing a great crowd assembling 
there. They had just taken in the bodies of three soldiers 
from Munckholm garrison, and of two archers, found yester- 
day in the ravines at the foot of Cascadthymore precipice, four 
leagues away. Some of the people who saw them were sure 
that the poor wretches made up the squad that was sent out 
three days ago, in the direction of Skongen, to look for the 
fugitive Spladgest keeper. If that is true, it is difficult to 
conceive how so many armed men could have been murdered. 
The condition of the bodies showed that they had been thrown 
from the top of the cliffs. It’s enough to make one’s hair 
stand on end.” 


156 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ Good heavens, Gustavus, did you see them ? ” asked 
Wapherney earnestly. 

“ I had them directly under my eyes.” 

“And have they any idea as to the perpetrator of the 
deed?” 

“ Some think that it might have been a band of miners, and 
they declare that they heard them yesterday signalling to 
each other with horns among the mountains.” 

“ Is that so ? ” said Arthur. 

“ Yes ; but an old peasant has put an end to that theory, by 
calling attention to the fact that there are neither mines nor 
miners anywhere around Cascadthymore.” 

“ Whom could it have been, then ? ” 

“ Ko one knows. If any portions of the bodies had been 
missing, it might have been thought that it was done by wild 
beasts, for the limbs are marked with long, deep scratches. 
It is the same with the body of an old, white-bearded man, 
who was brought to the Spladgest day before yesterday morn- 
ing, just after the dreadful storm which prevented you, my 
dear Leander Wapherney, from going across the bay to visit 
your Hero at Larsynn.” 

“ That’s good, Gustavus,” said Wapherney, with a laugh ; 
“ but who’s the old man ? ” 

“From his unusual stature, his long white beard, and the 
rosary that he still holds tightly grasped in his hand, although 
everything else was taken from him, it is said that they recog- 
nize a certain hermit of the vicinity, called, I believe, the her- 
mit of Lynrass. It is evident that this poor man was also 
assassinated, but why? They don’t cut throats now on 
account of religious opinions, and the poor hermit had noth- 
ing in the world but a woollen robe and a claim on public 
charity.” 

“ And you say,” Richard went on, “ that his body, like the 
bodies of the soldiers, is lacerated as if by the claws of a wild 
beast ? ” 

“Yes, my dear fellow; and a fisherman says that he found 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


157 


similar marks on the body of an officer discovered several 
days ago on Urchtal sands . 77 

“That is very strange / 7 said Arthur. 

“It is horrible / 7 said Richard. 

“Well / 7 responded Wapherney, “stop talking now and get 
to work, for I think the general will soon be here. I 7 m very 
curious to see those bodies, my dear Gustavus. If it is agree- 
able to you, we will stop at the Spladgest a moment to-night 
on our way home . 77 


158 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


And sidewards she, with young unawakened senses, 

"Within her cabin on the Alpine field, 

Her simple, homely life commences, 

Her little world therein concealed. 

And I, God’s hate flung o’er me. 

And not enough, to thrust 
The stubborn rocks before me 
And strike them into dust ! 

Her and her peace I yet mùst undermine : 

Thou, Hell, hath claimed this sacrifice as thine ! 

Help, Devil, through the coming pangs to push me ; 

What must he, let it quickly be ! 

Let fall on me her fate, and also crush me, — 

One ruin whelm both her and me ! 

Goethe : Faust! 

In 1675, that is to say about twenty-four years, alas, before 
the period when this story opens, the inhabitants of Thoctree 
took part in a charming festival, in honor of the marriage of 
sweet Lucy Pelnyrh and that handsome, tall, noble-hearted 
young man, Caroll Stadt. They had been in love with one 
another for a long time; and how could anybody fail to be 
interested in the destiny of two devoted hearts, on the day 
when all their ardent wishes and indefinite hopes were finally 
to be transformed into happiness ? They had been born in 
the same village, and roamed the fields together ; and often 
in their childhood had Caroll fallen asleep, weary with play, 
with his head on Lucy’s breast, and often in their youth, 
when the day’s toil was over, Lucy would go homeward lean- 
ing on Caroll’s arm. Lucy was the shyest and the prettiest 
girl in the country, and Caroll the bravest and noblest of the 
young men ; they loved one another, and they could no more 
1 fart I., scene xiv. ; translation by Bayard Taylor, 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


159 


remember the day when they began to love than the day when 
they began to live. 

But their marriage did not come about, as their love did, 
imperceptibly and spontaneously. There were domestic inter- 
ests, family dissensions, parental opposition ; and for one 
whole year they had been separated, Caroll longing for his 
Lucy, and Lucy weeping for her Caroll, until the happy day 
of their reunion, after which they suffered and wept together. 

It was in rescuing her from great danger that Caroll won 
his Lucy. One day he heard some one screaming in the 
woods ; it was Lucy, who had been surprised by a brigand, a 
monster, much feared by the mountaineers, who was evidently 
determined to carry her off. The creature had a human face ; 
but the strange roaring sound, like that of a wild beast, which 
he was wont to give forth, gained for him the name of Hans . 1 
Caroll in his bravery attacked the creature that no one else 
dared to come to close quarters with, but love gave him the 
strength of a lion. He rescued his beloved Lucy, and took her 
to her father, and her father gave her to him. 

Joy reigned throughout the village on the day when the two 
lovers were made one. Lucy, however, seemed to be troubled 
about something. She had never looked more tenderly at her 
dear Caroll ; but her glance had in it as much of sadness as of 
tenderness, and mid the general merry-making it gave rise to 
a good deal of surprise. As the hours passed, and the happi- 
ness of her companion was heightened, her eyes expressed 
more and more of grief, as well as love. 

« Oh, my Lucy,” said Caroll to her, after the holy cere- 
mony was over, (( the brigand may be a curse to the neigh- 
borhood, but he has been a blessing to me ! ” 

Lucy shook her head, but made no other response. Night 
came, and they were left alone in their new cabin ; while the 
dancing and games were carried on with redoubled zeal in 
the village square, in celebration of their felicity. 

i In French, Han represents the guttural sound made by a mp when h§ 
gtrikes 9. heavy blow, 


160 


II AN S OF ICELAND. 


The next morning Caroll Stadt had disappeared. A few 
words written by him were brought to Lucy Pelnyrh’s father 
by a hunter from the Kole mountains, who had met him 
before dawn, wandering along the shores of the bay. Old 
Will Pelnyrh showed the paper to the pastor and the syndic, 
and nothing remained of the festivities of the day before 
except Lucy’s dejection and gloomy despair. 

The mysterious catastrophe astounded the whole village, 
and all attempts to explain the event were futile. Prayers 
for Caroll’s soul were said in the same church where, a few 
days before, the young man had himself joined in songs of 
gratitude for his happiness. It was a wonder that the widow 
Stadt continued to live at all. After nine months of solitude 
and mourning, she brought a son into the world, and on that 
very same day Golyn village was destroyed by the fall of a 
hanging rock. 

The birth of her son did not drive away his mother’s 
gloomy sorrow. Gill Stadt gave no evidence of bearing any 
resemblance to Caroll. His untamed childhood seemed to 
give promise of a wildly uncontrollable future. Sometimes a 
small, savage-appearing man, in whom the mountaineers who 
saw him at a distance claimed to recognize the notorious Hans 
of Iceland, visited the widow Stadt’s lonely cabin ; and those 
who went by on such occasions heard a woman’s groans, and 
growls like those of a tiger. The man would lead young Gill 
away ; and months would elapse before, with an aspect still 
more sombre and alarming, he would bring him back to his 
mother. 

The sentiment which the widow Stadt had for her child 
was a mixture of tenderness and horror. Sometimes she 
would press him to her breast, as if he were the only bond 
that held her to life ; at other times she would push him 
away in horror, and call for Caroll, her dear Caroll. No 
earthly being knew the emotions that filled her heart. 

When Gill was past his twenty-third birthday, he saw Guth 
Stersen, and loved her madly. Guth Stersen was rich and he 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


161 


was poor; so he set out for Rœraas, to become a miner and 
earn money. From that time his mother heard no more from 
him. 

One night, as she was sitting by her spinning-wheel by 
which she got her living, with her dimly burning lamp, under 
the roof which had grown old with her in loneliness and 
sorrow, the mute witness of the mysterious events of her wed- 
ding-night, she thought anxiously about her son, whose pres- 
ence, although so much desired, would be sure to revive and 
perhaps add to her burden of sorrow. The mother loved her 
son, unworthy as he was ; and how could she fail to love him, 
since she had suffered so much on his account ? 

She got up and took a rusty, dust-covered crucifix from an 
old cupboard. For a moment she looked at it in a supplicat- 
ing way, then she suddenly cast it from her in terror. 

“ Pray ! ” she exclaimed, “ how can I pray ? Your pray- 
ers, unhappy woman, must be addressed to hell, for it is in 
hell that you belong.” 

She had fallen into a gloomy revery, when there came a 
knock at the door. It was a rare event for the widow Stadt 
to have visitors ; for many a long year had passed since the 
Thoctree villagers, thanks to her extraordinary existence, 
believed that she was in league with infernal spirits. Thus 
no one ever came near her cabin. Strange superstitions pre- 
vailed at that period in that uncivilized region ! Because of 
her misfortunes, she was rated a sorceress ; just as the Splad- 
gest keeper, because of his erudition, was classed as a wizard. 

“ If it should be my son ; if it should be Gill ! ” she ex- 
claimed, springing toward the door. 

Alas, it was not her son, but a little hermit, in a woollen 
robe, with the hood pulled down, so that nothing but a black 
beard could be seen of his face. 

“ Holy man,” said the widow, “ what is your wish ? You 
do not know to whose house you have come.” 

“ Indeed, I do ! ” the hermit responded, in a husky and too 
familiar voice ; and snatching off his gloves, his black beard, 


162 


IIANS OF ICELAND. 


and his hood, he revealed a horrible countenance, red whis- 
kers, and hands armed with hideous nails. 

“ Oh ! ” the widow exclaimed, hiding her face in her hands. 

“Well,” said the little man, “are not twenty-four years 
long enough for you to get used to seeing a spouse whom you 
will have to contemplate throughout eternity ? ” 

“ Eternity ! ” she murmured, in horror. 

“ Listen, Lucy Pelnyrh ; I bring you news of your son.” 

“ Of my son ! Where is he ? Why does he not come ? ” 

“He cannot.” 

“ But you have news of him. I give you thanks. Is it 
possible, alas, that you can bring me happiness ? ” 

“ Happiness, in fact, I bring you,” said the man, in a hol- 
low voice ; “ for you are a weak woman, and it surprises me 
that you were able to bring forth such a son. Cheer up, then. 
You feared that your son would follow in my footsteps. Fear 
that no longer.” 

“ What ! ” the mother exclaimed, in ecstasy, “ has my son, 
my beloved Gill, really changed ? ” 

“ Oh, greatly changed ! ” said the hermit, meeting her ex- 
pressions of joy with an evil laugh. 

“ Why, then, has he not hastened to my arms ? Where 
did you see him ? What was he doing ? ” 

“ He was asleep.” 

The widow, in her extreme joy, did not notice the sinister 
look, or the horrible mocking air, with which the words were 
uttered. 

“ Why did you not awaken him, and say, 1 Gill, come and 
see your mother ’ ? ” 

“ He was sleeping very soundly.” 

“ Oh, when will he come ? Tell me, I beg of you, that I 
shall see him soon.” 

The sham hermit drew from beneath his robe a sort of cup 
of peculiar shape. 

“Well, widow,” he said, “drink to your son’s speedy 
return ! ” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


163 


The widow uttered a cry of horror. It was a human skull. 
She made a gesture indicative of repugnance, and could not 
utter a word. 

“ No, no ! ” the man suddenly exclaimed, in a terrible voice ; 
“ woman, do not turn your eyes away, but look. You asked 
to see your son again ! Look, I tell you, for this is all that is 
left of him ! ” 

And in the reddish lamplight he pressed the bare, dry skull 
to the mother’s pale lips. Misfortune had trodden so heavily 
upon her heart, that one stroke more could not break it. She 
stared uncomprehendingly at the wild hermit. 

“ Oh, death,” she said feebly, “ death ! Let me die ! ” 

“Die if you will, but remember, Lucy Pelnyrh, remember 
Thoctree woods ; remember the day when the demon, in pos- 
sessing himself of your body, gave your soul to hell. I am 
that demon, Lucy, and you are bound to me for eternity. 
Now, if you wish to, die ! ” 

It was a tradition among this superstitious people that in- 
fernal spirits sometimes appeared among men, to live a life of 
crime and calamity; and among other famous miscreants, Hans 
of Iceland was given this horrible renown. It was still be- 
lieved that a woman who, through seduction or violence, 
became the prey of one of these demons in human form, 
became also, through her misfortune, the irrevocable com- 
panion of his damnation. 

The events which the hermit recalled to the widow seemed 
to remind her of the popular belief. 

“Alas,” she said pitifully, “can I not escape from exist- 
ence ? And where was I at fault ? — for, as my beloved 
Caroll knows, I was innocent. What are a young girl’s arms 
against the fierce grasp of a demon ? ” 

As she went on, her eyes rolled wildly, and incoherent 
words fell from her convulsively trembling lips. 

“Yes, Caroll, from that day I was impure, yet innocent; 
and this demon asks me if I remember it — that horrible day. 
My Caroll, I did not deceive you ; you came too late. I was 


164 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


his, alas, before I was yours ! And I shall be punished 
through all eternity. No, I shall not be able to be with 
you for whom I weep. What good will dying be to me ? 
I shall go with this monster to the world that is like him, 
to the world where the wicked dwell ; and what have I done ? 
The misfortunes of this life are to be accounted as crimes to 
me in eternity/’ 

The little hermit looked at her triumphantly and authori- 
tatively. 

“ Ah,” she exclaimed, suddenly turning toward him, “ ah, 
tell me that your presence here is nothing but a frightful 
dream ; for you know, alas, that every ill-omened night since 
the day of my misfortune, your spirit has visited me in 
unclean apparitions, frightful visions, and terrifying dreams !” 

“ Woman, woman, where are your wits ? You are as truly 
awake as Gill is truly dead.” 

Remembrance of bygone misfortunes had effaced from the 
mother’s mind the latest calamity, but his last words brought 
it back. 

“ Oh, my son, my son ! ” she said, and the sound of her 
voice would have moved any heart softer than that of the 
monster who listened to her ; “ no, he will come back. He is 
not dead, I cannot believe that he is dead.” 

“ Go, then, and ask the rocks at Rceraas, that crushed him, 
and Drontheim bay, that swallowed him up.” 

“ God, great God ! ” the widow gasped, falling upon her 
knees. 

“Be silent, servant of hell!” The unfortunate woman lis- 
tened as he went on. “Do not doubt that your son is dead. 
He has been punished for his father’s weakness. He let his 
stony heart be softened by a woman’s glance. I, although I 
possessed you, never loved you. Caroll’s misfortune fell upon 
him. My son and yours was deceived by his betrothed, by 
her for whom he died.” 

“ Died,” she repeated, “ died ! It is true, then ? O Gill, 
you were born of my misfortune ; you were conceived in ter- 



“THE LITTLE HERMIT LOOKED AT HER TRIUMPHANTLY AND 


AUTHORITATIVELY.” 





HANS OF ICELAND. 


165 


ror and brought forth in sorrow ; your mouth tore at my 
breast; as a baby you made no response to my caresses and 
fondlings, but you always avoided and repulsed your mother, 
whose life was so lonely and disheartened ! You never sought 
to make me forget the afflictions that were past, except by 
bringing upon me new disasters ; you forsook me for the 
demoniac author of your existence and of my widowhood. 
Never, in all these long years, Gill, never have I had one 
joy that came from you ; and yet, my son, your death to-day 
seems to me more insupportable than all my other sorrows, 
and to-day memory of you seems to be a source of alluring 
consolation. Alas ! ” 

She could not go on ; she hid her face in her coarse black 
veil, and sobbed pitifully. 

“ The weakness of woman ! ” muttered the hermit ; then he 
went on, speaking aloud : “ Repress your grief ; I make sport 
of mine. Listen, Lucy Pelnyrh. While you continue to 
weep for your son, I have begun to avenge him. It was 
for a soldier of Munckholm garrison that his betrothed de- 
ceived him. The whole regiment shall perish at my hands. 
Look at this, Lucy Pelnyrh.” 

He pulled up the sleeves of his robe, and showed the widow 
his deformed arms, stained with blood. 

"Yes,” he said, with a characteristic roar, "Gill's spirit 
ought to find an especial joy in haunting Urchtal sands and 
the Cascadthymore ravines. Well, woman, don’t you see this 
blood ? Let it be a solace to you ! ” 

Then, as if struck with another thought, he quickly changed 
the subject. 

“ Widow, has no one brought you an iron box, sent by me ? 
What ! I have sent you gold and I bring you blood, and still 
you weep ! It cannot be that you belong to the race of man.” 

The widow, absorbed in her grief, remained silent. 

« Well,” he said, with brutal mirth, "you still remain 
speechless and unmoved ! It must be, then, that you do 
not belong to the race of woman, either, Lucy Pelnyrh.” He 


166 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


took her by the arm to arouse her. “Did not a messenger 
bring you a sealed iron box ? ” 

The widow looked at him for a moment, shook her head, 
and fell again into mournful revery. 

“ Ah, the scoundrel,” the little man exclaimed ; “ the miser* 
able traitor ! Spiagudry, that gold shall cost you dear ! ” 

And tearing off his monkish robe, he sprang from the cot- 
tage with the snarl of a hyena that has scented a corpse. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


167 


CHAPTER XVII. 


My lord, I comb my hair, ~ I comb my hair and weep, because you have left 

me alone and have gone away into the mountains. — The Count's Lady ; 

A Romance. 

Ethel, meanwhile, had passed four long and wearisome 
days, wandering alone in the gloomy garden of the Schleswig 
donjon, in the oratory, where she had wept so many tears and 
offered so many prayers, and in the long gallery, where once 
she had failed to hear the midnight bell. Her old father ac- 
companied her sometimes ; but she was none the less alone, for 
the true companion of her life was absent. 

Unfortunate young girl, what had that pure young soul 
ever done to be delivered over to such sorrow ? Snatched 
from the world, from honors, riches, the joys of youth and 
the triumphs of beauty, she had been taken from lier cradle 
to dwell in a dungeon. Held in bondage with her imprisoned 
father, she had grown to maidenhood, watching him wither 
away; and as a crowning grief, that she might escape no 
possibility of slavery, love had come and found her in a 
prison. 

And yet, if she could have had Ordener close by, what 
would she have cared for freedom ? Would she have even 
been aware of the existence of a world from which she was 
separated ? And, moreover, would not her world and her 
heaven have been comprised within the narrow donjon, be- 
neath the gloomy, closely-guarded towers, at which the passer- 
by would none the less have cast a look of pity ? 

But, alas, her Ordener was for the second time absent ; and 
instead of passing swift, yet quickly returning, hours with 
him in sweet and pure caresses, she spent her nights and days 


168 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


mourning his absence, and praying for his escape from danger, 
— for a maiden has no refuge, save in prayers and tears. 

Sometimes she envied the flitting swallow that came every 
morning in search of food to her prison-bars. Sometimes she 
let her thoughts follow the clouds, as they were driven swiftly 
toward the north by the pursuing wind ; then she would sud- 
denly turn aside her head and shield her eyes, as if she 
dreaded the sight of a gigantic brigand, and the beginning 
of an unequal combat, on one of the distant mountains, whose 
purplish summit stood up against the horizon like a motion- 
less bank of mist. 

Oh, it is cruel to be in love when one is separated from 
one’s lover ! Not many hearts have felt this sorrow in all its 
intensity, because few hearts have known love in all its pro- 
fundity. Then one is transported out of one’s individuality, 
creates for one’s self a dismal solitude, an illimitable void, 
and surrounds the absent lover with a multitude of indefinite 
perils, vague, threatening monsters, and baleful illusions. 
The various faculties comprised within the mind are all 
transformed, and merge themselves into an infinite yearn- 
ing for the departed, and the whole world of reality seems 
nothing but a dream. And yet one breathes and walks and 
acts, but as if without volition. The body moves here and 
there, like a wandering planet that has lost its sun ; the soul 
is far away. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


169 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

Seven valiant chiefs 

Slew on the hlack-orbed shield the victim bull, 

And, dipping in the gore their furious hands, 

In solemn oath attest the god of war, 

Bellona, and the carnage-loving power 
Of terror, sworn from their firm base to rend 
The walls, and lay their ramparts in the dust. 

Æschylus: The Seven Against Thebes . 1 

The shores of Norway abound in narrow bays, inlets, reefs, 
lagoons, and little promontories, so multitudinously that they 
fatigue the traveller’s memory and the topographer’s patience. 
Once, according to popular belief, every isthmus had its haunt- 
ing demon, every inlet its favorite fairy, every promontory its 
patron saint ; for superstition makes a jumble of tradition, and 
uses it as a nourishment for terror. On Kelvel beach, some 
miles to the north of Walderhog grotto, there was said to be a 
spot entirely free from the jurisdiction of any spirit, whether 
infernal, intermediary, or celestial. It was an open space 
upon the shore, backed by a cliff, on the summit of which 
still existed the ancient ruins of the manor-house that once 
belonged to Ralph, or Radulph, the Giant. This little space 
of wild land, bordered on the west by the sea, and closely 
hemmed in by heath-covered cliffs, owed its exemption sim- 
ply to the name of the old Norwegian patriarch, its former 
owner ; for what fairy or devil or angel would have dared to 
occupy, or attempt to rule, a domain that had once been occu- 
pied and guarded by Ralph the Giant ? 

It is true that the name of the awe-inspiring Ralph was of 
itself enough to give a terrifying association to so wild a spot, 
1 Translation by Robert Potter. 


170 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


but when all is said, a tradition is not so formidable as a 
spirit ; and never did the fisherman, detained by rough weather 
and mooring his boat in Ralph’s creek, see the elf dancing 
wildly among the souls of the dead at the top of the rock, 
or the fairy gliding over the heather on her glowworm 
chariot drawn by gleaming moths, or the saint ascending 
in the moonbeams after prayer. 

If, however, on the night after a great storm, the violence 
of the wind and waves permitted the wandering mariner to 
find shelter in that hospitable bay, he might perhaps have 
been struck with superstitious terror at seeing the three men 
who, on this particular night, were seated around a great fire 
that had been lighted in the middle of the glade. Two of 
them wore the big felt hats and roomy trousers of the king’s 
miners. Their arms were naked to the shoulders, their feet 
were hidden in fawn-colored half-boots, and a belt of red cloth 
held their curved swords and long pistols. Both had hunting- 
horns hung at their necks. One was quite old, the other 
young; and the old man’s thick beard and the young man’s 
long hair gave a savage aspect to faces that were naturally 
hard and stern in expression. 

By his bear-skin Cap, his coat of oiled leather, the musket 
strapped to his back, his short, tight breeches, his bare knees, 
his bark sandals, and the gleaming axe that he 'held in his 
hand, it was easy to recognize, in the companion of the two 
miners, a mountaineer from the north of Norway. 

Certainly, any one who got sight from a distance of these 
three strange figures — on whom the fire, fanned by the sea- 
breeze, cast its reddish, capricious light — would have had 
good reason to be alarmed, even without any thought of spec- 
tres or demons; it would have been enough if he simply 
believed in the existence of robbers, and possessed a little 
more worldly wealth than falls to the lot of the poet. 

The three men kept looking toward the hidden trail that 
led to Ralph’s clearing ; and from the words that the wind 
permitted to be heard, it seemed to be evident that they were 
waiting for a fourth person. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


171 


“ Well, Kennybol, do you realize that we shouldn’t be wait- 
ing quite so peaceably for the Count of Griffenfeld’s messen- 
ger, if we were over there in the goblin Tulbytilbet’s field, or 
down by St. Cuthbert’s bay ? ” 

“ Don’t speak so loudly, Jonas,” the mountaineer responded 
to the old miner ; “ blessed be Ralph the Giant, our protec- 
tor ! Heaven preserve me from setting foot in Tulbytilbet’s 
meadow ! The other day I picked what seemed to be haw- 
thorne there ; but I got mandragora, and it bled and shrieked 
so that it nearly drove me mad.” 

“ Really, Kennybol,” said the young miner, with a laugh ; 
“ I am quite ready to believe that the mandragora’s cry found 
a suitable target in your poor brain.” 

“ Poor brain, yourself,” said the mountaineer wrathfully. 
“ You hear, Jonas ; he laughs at mandragora, — laughs, like 
a fool playing with a skull.” 

“Ah, well,” retorted Jonas, “let him go to Walderhog 
grotto, where the heads of the men murdered by Hans, the 
Iceland devil, come every night to dance about his bed of dry 
leaves, and gnash their teeth to lull him to sleep.” 

“ Is that true ? ” asked the mountaineer. 

“Well,” replied the young man, “did not master Hacket, 
for whom we are waiting, promise us that Hans of Iceland 
should put himself at the head of our insurrection ? ” 

“ He did promise it,” responded Kennybol ; “ and with the 
aid of that demon we are sure of getting the better of all 
the green coats from Drontheim and Copenhagen.” 

“ Very good,” exclaimed the old miner ; “ but I’m not the 
one to stand on watch with him at night.” 

At that moment the attention of the speakers was attracted 
by the sound of breaking twigs ; they turned around, and 
recognized the newcomer, as he approached in the firelight. 

“That’s he, that’s master Hacket! Welcome, master 
Hacket ; you have kept us waiting. We have been here, at 
the appointed place, more than three-quarters of an hour. 

Master Hacket was a short, fat man, dressed in black, with 
a mirthful but sinister expression in his face. 


172 1 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ Well, my friends,” he said, “ I was detained by my igno- 
rance of the way, and the time that I had to spend in looking 
for it. I left Count Schumacker this morning. Here are 
three purses of gold, which he charged me to give you.” 

The two old men grasped at the money with the avidity 
characteristic of poor Norwegian peasants. The young miner 
thrust back the purse that Hacket held out to him. 

“ Keep your gold, master messenger ; I should be lying if I 
said that I rebel in behalf of your Count Schumacker. I rebel 
to free the miners from royal guardianship. I rebel that my 
mother’s bed may have something more than a blanket, rag- 
ged as the Norway coast, for its sole covering.” 

No signs of annoyance appeared in master Hacket’ s coun- 
tenance; and he responded with a smile, — 

“ To your poor mother, then, my dear Norbith, I shall send 
this money, that she may have two new coverings to keep off 
the winter winds.” 

The young man acquiesced with a nod ; and the messenger, 
with clever understanding of the situation, hastened to add, - — 

“ But take care not to repeat what you just now thought- 
lessly said, — that it is not in behalf of Schumacker, Count of 
Griffenfeld, that you take up arms.” 

“ And yet, and yet,” the two old men muttered, “ we know 
only too well that the miners are oppressed, but we do not 
know the count, the state prisoner.” 

“ What,” the messenger interposed quickly, “ can your in- 
gratitude be so rank ? You were groaning underground, de- 
prived of air and light, despoiled of your property, slaves to 
the most relentless tyranny ! Who came to your aid ? Who 
has inspired you with new courage ? Who has furnished you 
with money and weapons ? Was it not my illustrious master, 
the noble Count of Griffenfeld, who is even more utterly en- 
slaved and more unfortunate than you ? And now, loaded 
with his benefactions, you would refuse to take advantage of 
them, to give him his liberty at the same time that you gain 
your own ? ” 


II AN S OF ICELAND. 


173 


' * 


“ You are right/’ the young miner interrupted ; “ that would 
be very ungrateful.” 

“ Yes, master Hacket,” said the two old men, “ we will 
fight for Count Schumacker.” 

“ Courage, my friends ! Rise in his name ; carry the name 
of your benefactor from one end of Norway to the other. 
Listen. Everything favors your noble enterprise. 'You are 
to be delivered from a formidable obstacle, General Levin de 
Knud, the governor of the province. My noble master, the 
Count of Griffenfeld, will have him recalled for a time to 
Bergen, by secret authority. Now tell me, Kennybol, Jonas, 
and you, my dear Norbith, are all your companions ready ? ” 

“ My brethren at Guldbranshal,” said Norbith, “ are only 
waiting for my signal. To-morrow, if you desire” — 

“ To-morrow be it. The young miners, of whom you are 
the leader, should be the first to raise the standard. And 
you, my brave J onas ? ” 

“ Six hundred good fellows from the Faroe islands, who 
have been living for three days on chamois meat and bear’s 
oil, in Bennallag forest, are waiting to hear the summoning 
horn of their old captain, Jonas of Lœvig.” 

“Very good. And you, Kennybol ? ” 

“ All those who carry axes in the Kole valleys, and climb 
the cliffs with naked knees, are ready to join their brothers, 
the miners, whenever they are needed.” 

“ Excellent. Announce to your companions, that they may 
have no doubt of victory,” the messenger added, in a louder 
tone, “that Hans of Iceland is to be the leader.” 

“ Is it quite certain ? ” the three asked in unison, in tones 
expressive of mingled hope and fear. 

“ I shall be waiting for you, all three, four days from now, 
at this very hour,” the messenger responded, “expecting to 
see your united forces at Apsylcorh mine, near Lake Smiasen, 
under Blue Star plain. Hans of Iceland will accompany me.” 

“ We will be there,” said the three leaders ; “ and may God 
not abandon those who are to have the aid of that demon ! ” 


174 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“Fear nothing, as far as God is concerned,” said Hacket 
cynically. “ Listen. You will find banners for your troops 
in the old Crag ruins. Don’t forget the war-cry : 1 Long live 
Schumacker ! Schumacker to the rescue ! ’ We must part 
now ; it will soon be morning. But first, swear to maintain 
perfect secrecy with regard to what has passed between us.” 

Without response in words, the three chiefs opened veins 
in their left arms with the points of their swords, and seizing 
the messenger’s hand, each allowed a few drops of blood to 
fall upon it. 

“ You have our blood,” they said. Then the younger ex- 
claimed : “ May all my blood run out, like that I shed at this 
moment ; may a malignant spirit sport with my hopes, as the 
whirlwind does with straw; may my arm be lead in the 
avenging of an insult ; may bats dwell in my sepulchre ; 
while I live, may I be haunted by the dead, and when I die, 
be profaned by the living ; may my eyes melt in tears, like a 
woman’s, — if I ever speak of what has taken place at this 
hour in Ralph the Giant’s clearing. May the blessed saints 
bear witness ! ” 

“ Amen,” the two old men responded. 

Then they departed, and nothing remained in the clearing 
except the half-extinguished fire, whose dying rays mounted 
at intervals to the very top of Ralph the Giant’s ruined and 
deserted towers. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


175 


CHAPTER XIX. 


Theodore. Let us fly this way, Tristan. 

Tristan. ’Tis a sad disgrace. 

Theodore. Did they recognize us ? 

Tristan. I know not, yet I fear it. 

Lope de Vega : The Gardener's Dog. 

Bexignus Spiagudry found it very hard to understand the 
motives that could impel a young man, who seemed to be well 
equipped mentally, and to have many years of life yet before 
him, to assume the attitude of a voluntary aggressor against 
the redoubtable Hans of Iceland. Several times, in the course 
of their journey, he had adroitly approached the question; 
but, concerning the object of this expedition, the young man 
preserved an imperturbable silence. The poor keeper was no 
more successful in solving the other questions to which the 
behavior of his extraordinary comrade naturally gave rise. 
Once he had hazarded an inquiry with regard to his young 
master’s family and name. 

“Call me Ordener,” the other had responded; and unsatis- 
factory as the reply was, it was uttered in a tone that ad- 
mitted of no further discussion. Under these circumstances, 
acquiescence was the only possible course. Every one has 
his secrets ; and did not even the good Spiagudry himself 
take great pains to conceal, in his knapsack under his cloak, a 
certain mysterious box, concerning which any examination 
would have been regarded by him as extremely disagreeable 
and out of place ? 

They were four days out from Drontheim ; but they had 
made comparatively little progress, not so much because of 
the bad condition of the roads, owing to the storm, as to the 
multiplicity of cross-cuts and roundabout ways which the 


176 


Il AN S OF ICELAND. 


fugitive keeper thought it prudent to take in order to avoid 
more thickly inhabited regions. Leaving Skongen on their 
right, they reached the shores of Sparbo towards the evening 
of the fourth day._ 

The vast sheet of water presented a sombre and magnificent 
picture, as it reflected the last rays of the setting sun and the 
first stars of approaching night, within a frame of high cliffs, 
black firs, and towering oaks. The appearance of the lake at 
night sometimes results, when seen from a certain distance, in 
a peculiar optical illusion. It is as if an immense abyss had 
been driven through the earth, from one side to the other, 
and one could look through and see the sky below. 

Ordener paused to look at the ancient Druidical forests that 
covered the mountainous shores of the lake like a crest, and 
at the clay huts of Sparbo, scattered over the slope like a 
meagre flock of white goats. He listened to the distant rum- 
ble of the forges , 1 mingled with the subdued roar of the wind 
in the great treetops, the occasional cries of wild birds, and 
the sober harmony of the waves. To the north, an immense 
granite cliff, still lighted by the sun, rose majestically above 
the little hamlet of Oëlmœ, and then bowed its head under a 
mass of ruined towers, like a giant wearied with its burden. 

When the soul is filled with sadness, a melancholy land- 
scape is a source of pleasure, for the mind adds to it some- 
thing of its own gloom. An unhappy person, coming among 
great, wild mountains, near a darkening lake, in the midst of 
a thick forest, just at the sunset hour, will look upon the 
scene through a veil of dejection ; it will seem to him as if 
the sun were setting never to rise again. Ordener stood there 
in silent revery, when his companion exclaimed, — 

“ You do well, young master! One is justified in looking 
respectfully at the lake which contains more pleuracanthidæ 
than any other in Norway.” 

This speech, and the gesture that accompanied it, would 

1 The waters of Lake Sparbo are famous for their utility in tempering 
steel. 


BANS OF ICELAND. 


ITT 


have brought a smile to the face of any one but a lover sepa- 
rated from his mistress, — - perhaps irrevocably. The learned 
keeper went on, — 

“ Permit me, at least, to arouse you from your reflections 
long enough to remind you that the night is near at hand, 
and that we must hasten if we would reach Oëlmœ before 
twilight.” 

It was a reasonable suggestion. Ordener resumed his jour- 
ney ; and Spiagudry followed him, with a continuous stream 
of observations regarding the botanical and physiological phe- 
nomena that Lake Sparbo provided for the naturalist, — 
observations to which the young man paid little heed. 

“ My lord Ordener,” the keeper was saying, “ if you have 
any confidence whatever in your devoted guide, you will 
abandon your ill-omened enterprise. Yes, my lord, and you 
will make your abode here by the shores of this marvellous 
lake, where we can together give our time to an endless series 
of learned researches — for example, a hunt after the stella 
canora palustris, that marvellous plant, which many botanists 
believe to be fabulous, but which Bishop Arngrim affirms that 
he saw and heard on the shores of Sparbo. More than that, 
we shall have the satisfaction of making our dwelling on a 
soil that contains more gypsum than any other in Europe, and 
where the butchers in the employ of the Drontheim Themis 
are least likely to penetrate. Doesn’t that cheer you up a 
little, my young master ? Come, give up your mad enter- 
prise ; for, without desiring to offend you, I am convinced that 
your undertaking is perilous and profitless, — periculum sine 
pecunia , — that is to say, hair-brained, and conceived of in a 
moment when you had much better have been thinking of 
something else.” 

Ordener had been paying no attention whatever to the old 
man’s words, and had only contributed to the conversation 
the insignificant and meaningless monosyllables that great 
talkers take for replies. After this manner they arrived at 
Oëlmœ hamlet, where, at this particular moment, an unusual 


178 


1 IANS OF ICELAND. 


agitation was to be noticed in tlie market-place. The inhabi- 
tants of the village — hunters, fishermen, and blacksmiths — 
had emerged from their cottages, and were grouped around a 
circular mound upon which several men stood, one of them 
blowing a horn and waving a little black-and-white flag over 
his head. 

“ ’Tis some charlatan, no doubt,” said Spiagudry, “ ambula- 
rium collegia , pharmacopolæ , some rascal who turns gold into 
lead and wounds into ulcers. Let us see what diabolical 
invention he is selling to these poor country people. If 
these impostors would only confine themselves to royal vic- 
tims, if they would imitate Borch the Dane, and Borri the 
Milanese, who made such a stupendous gull of our Frederic 
III ., 1 but they must have the peasant’s penny, as well as the 
prince’s millions.” 

Spiagudry was mistaken. As they approached the mound 
they recognized a syndic, by his black robe and round, pointed 
cap, standing among a group of archers. The man who had 
blown the horn was the public crier. The fugitive keeper 
was greatly disturbed, and murmured in an undertone, — 

“Really, my lord Ordener, when I came to this village 
I didn’t expect to fall in with a syndic. St. Hospitius pre- 
serve me ! What is he going to say ? ” 

His suspense was not prolonged, for the shrill voice of the 
crier suddenly broke forth over the respectful little assembly 
of Oëlmœ inhabitants. 

“In the name of his majesty, and by order of his excel- 
lency, General Levin de Knud, governor, the chief syndic 
of Drontheimhus makes known to the inhabitants of all the 
cities, towns, and villages in the province, — first, a reward of 

1 Frederic III. was the dupe of Borch, or Borrichius, the Danish chemist, 
and more particularly of Borri, a Milanese charlatan, who claimed to be the 
favorite of the Archangel Michael. This impostor, after astounding Stras- 
burg and Amsterdam with his pretended marvels, enlarged the sphere of 
his ambition and the audacity of his deceptions; and, after deluding the peo- 
ple, ventured on higher game. He began with Queen Christina at Hamburg, 
and ended up with King Frederic at Copenhagen. 


II AN S OF ICELAND. 


179 


one thousand royal crowns will be paid for the head of Hans, 
a native of Klipstadur in Iceland, assassin and incendiary.” 

A vague murmur went through the assembly. 

“ Second,” the crier continued, “ a reward of four royal 
crowns is offered for the head of Benignus Spiagudry, sorcerer 
and sacrilegist, ex-keeper of the Drontheim Spladgest. 

“ This decree will be published throughout the province by 
the syndics of cities, towns, and villages, who will do all in 
their power to aid in its execution.” 

The syndic took the proclamation from the crier’s hands, 
and added, in lugubrious and solemn tones, — 

“The lives of these men may be taken by any one who 
is able to do so.” 

The reader will be quite ready to believe that the proclama- 
tion was listened to with some emotion by the poor, ill-fated 
Spiagudry. There can be no doubt that the extraordinary 
signs of alarm which escaped him at that moment would have 
attracted the attention of the people nearest to him, if they 
had not been entirely absorbed in discussing the first part of 
the official proclamation. 

“ A price on Hans’s head ! ” exclaimed an old fisherman, 
who had drawn near, dragging his dripping nets. “ By St. 
Usuph, they would do about as well to put a price on the 
head of Beelzebub.” 

“ If they are going to make a distinction between Hans and 
Beelzebub,” said a huntsman, recognizable by his chamois-skin 
coat, “they ought to 'offer only fifteen hundred crowns for the 
horned head of old Satan.” 

“ Glory be to the Holy Mother of God ! ” added an old 
woman, twirling her distaff, her bald head shaking from side 
to side. “ I should like to see Hans’s head, just to make sure 
that his eyes are two burning coals, as people tell me.” 

“ Yes, surely,” responded another old woman ; “ he set fire 
to Drontheim cathedral, just by looking at it. As for me, I’d 
like to see the monster all over, with his serpent’s tail, his 
cloven foot, and his big bat’s wings.” 


180 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ Where did you get such stories as that, good mother ? ” 
the huntsman interrupted, with a knowing air. “ I myself 
saw Hans of Iceland in the Medsyhath ravines. He is a man 
like us, only he is as tall as a forty-year-old poplar.” 

“ Is that really so ? ” said a voice in the crowd, with a pecu- 
liar intonation. 

The voice, which made Spiagudry tremble, came from a lit- 
tle man, whose face was hidden under a miner’s big felt hat, 
and whose body was covered with rush matting and seal- 
skins. 

“On my word,” laughingly interposed a blacksmith, with 
his big hammer on his shoulder, “whether they offer one 
thousand or ten thousand royal crowns, whether he is four 
yards or forty yards tall, I’m not the one to go looking for 
him.” 

“Nor I,” said the fisherman. 

“ Nor I, nor I,” the others all responded. 

“ And yet any one who cares to attempt it,” responded the 
little man, “ will find Hans of Iceland to-morrow in Arbar 
ruins, near Smiasen ; day after to-morrow in Walderhog 
Grotto.” 

“ My worthy man, are you sure of that ? ” 

This question was asked by Ordener, who watched the 
scene with an interest that every one but Spiagudry could 
easily understand, and by another • short, stout man, dressed 
in black, and with a mocking expression, who at the first 
sound of the crier’s horn had come out from the only tavern 
that the village contained. The little man with the big hat 
looked at both of them for a moment, and then replied in a 
dull voice, — 

“ Yes.” 

“ And how can you be so sure of what you say ? ” Ordener 
demanded. 

“ I know where Hans of Iceland is, just as I know where 
Benignus Spiagudry is ; and neither of them is far from here 
at this moment.” 


SANS OF 1C EL ANS. 


181 


All his former terror came back upon the poor keeper, who 
hardly dared to glance at the mysterious little man, and who 
began to feel that his French wig was a very poor means of 
concealment. He pulled at Ordener’ s cloak, and said softly, — 

“ My lord master, in the name of Heaven, for mercy’s sake, 
for pity’s sake, let us get away, — let us get out of this ac- 
cursed suburb of hell ! ” 

Ordener, also greatly surprised, looked closely at the little 
man, who turned his back to the west, as if trying to conceal 
his features. 

“As for Benignus Spiagudry,” the fisherman exclaimed, “I 
have seen him at Drontheim Spladgest. He’s tall. ’Tis for 
him they offer four crowns.” 

“ Four crowns ! ” laughed the huntsman. “ You don’t get 
me into any chase like that. You can get more for a blue 
fox-skin.” 

This comparison, which at any other time would have been 
exceedingly distasteful to the learned keeper, gave him some 
degree of reassurance. He was on the point, however, of ur- 
ging once more upon Ordener the desirability of continuing the 
journey, when the latter, having got the information he 
desired, forestalled him by leaving the group, which was 
already beginning to break up. 

Although, when they came to Oëlmoe, it had been their 
intention to pass the night there, they left the village together 
by tacit agreement, not even interrogating one another as to 
the motive of their sudden departure. Ordener was hoping to 
catch up with the- brigand as quickly as possible, and Spia- 
gudry wanted to get away as promptly as he could from the 
archers. Ordener was too seriously impressed with the events 
in which he was taking part to laugh at his companion’s mis- 
adventures. He was the first to break the silence, and he 
spoke in sympathetic tones. 

“ Old man, where is the ruin where Hans of Iceland is 
to be to-morrow, according to the little man, who seemed to 
know everything?” 


182 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ I don’t know. I did not understand him clearly, noble 
master,” said Spiagudry, not untruthfully. 

“ In that case,” the } 7 oung man went on, “ we must content 
ourselves with looking for him day after to-morrow at Wal- 
derhog Grotto.” 

“ Walderhog Grotto, my lord ! Why, that is the favorite 
haunt of Hans of Iceland.” 

“ Let us go that way,” said Ordener. 

“We turn to the left, behind Oëlmœ cliff. We shall need 
at least two days to get to Walderhog cavern.” 

“ Have you any idea, my worthy guide,” Ordener said 
graciously, “ with regard to the identity of that strange man, 
who seemed to know you so well ? ” 

This question renewed in Spiagudry the alarm which had 
begun to subside as they had travelled away from Oëlmœ 
village. 

“No, I have not, my lord,” the old man responded in 
tremulous tones ; “ but he certainly had a very peculiar 
voice.” 

“ Don’t be alarmed, old man,” said Ordener, trying to reas- 
sure him. “ Serve me faithfully, and I will not fail to pro- 
tect you. If I come back a victor over Hans, I promise you 
not only a pardon, but the enjoyment of the thousand crowns 
reward.” 

The worthy Benignus was strongly attached to life, but his 
love for gold was prodigious. Ordener’s promises were like 
a magic talisman, — they not only banished his terrors, but 
they aroused in him a sort of mirthful loquacity, which ex- 
pressed itself in prolonged monologues, curious gesticulations, 
and learned allusions. 

“My lord Ordener,” he said, “if I were to enter into a 
debate on this subject with Over-Bilseuth, alias the Chat- 
terer, nothing could prevent me from maintaining that you 
are a wise and honorable young man. What, indeed, can be 
more worthy and more glorious, — quid cithara, tuba, vel 
campana dignius , — than to expose one’s life nobly to deliver 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


183 


one’s country from a monster, a brigand, a demon, in whom 
all demons, brigands, and monsters seem to be comprised ? 
Let no one tell me that you are inspired by any sordid 
motive ! The noble lord Ordener surrenders the rewards of 
his combat to his travelling companion, who will have done 
nothing except to guide him to within a mile of Walderhog 
Grotto ; for, it is true, is it not, young master, that you will 
permit me to await the result of your illustrious enterprise at 
Surb village, which lies about a mile from the shores of Wal- 
derhog, in the forest ? And when your resplendent victory 
shall be known, my lord, there will be rejoicing throughout 
all Norway as great as that of Yermund the Proscribed, 
when, from the summit of this same Oëlmœ cliff which we 
are now passing around, he perceived the big fire which his 
brother Hafdan had lighted on Munckholm towers, in token 
of its deliverance.” 

“ What ! ” Ordener quickly interrupted, “ can you see 
Munckholm from the top of this cliff ? ” 

“ Yes, my lord; a dozen miles to the south, between the 
mountains which our fathers called Frigga’s Stools. At this 
time of day one ought to be perfectly well able to see the 
beacon on the donjon.” 

“ Indeed ! ” exclaimed Ordener, charmed by the idea of see- 
ing once more the place where all his happiness lay. “ I sup- 
pose, old man, that there is a path leading to the top of the 
cliff.” 

“Yes, to be sure, a path that starts in the woods that we 
are now entering, and rises by an easy grade to the bare face 
of the rocks, in which the steps can still be found that were 
cut by Vermund’s companions to gain access to the castle. 
Those are the ruins that you see there in the moonlight.” 

“Very good, old man; you must show me the path. We’ll 
spend the night among those ruins, the ruins from which 
we shall be able to see Munckholm donjon.” 

“Is that your idea, my lord?” said Benignus. “The 
fatigues of the day” — 


184 


BANS OF ICELAND. 


“ Old man, I’ll help you on your way. My step was never 
firmer.” 

“My lord, the brambles that obstruct the pathway, which 
has been long unfrequented, the loose stones, the darkness ” — 

“ I will go first.” 

“Perhaps some savage beast, some ravaging animal, some 
hideous monster ” — 

“It was not to avoid monsters that I undertook this jour- 
ney.” 

The idea of stopping so near to Oëlmœ was very displeasing 
to Spiagudry; but the thought that he might be able to see 
Munckholm beacon, and perhaps the light in Ethel’s window, 
fascinated Ordener, and drew him on. 

“ My young master,” said Spiagudry, “ give up this project. 
To tell the truth, I have a presentiment that it will bring us 
misfortune.” 

This supplication had no effect in overcoming Ordener’s de- 
sire. “ Come, come,” he said impatiently, “ remember that 
you have engaged yourself to serve me faithfully. I want 
you to show me the path. Where is it ? ” 

“We shall get to it very soon,” said the keeper, forced to 
obey. 

In a few minutes the path was visible. They entered it; 
but Spiagudry noticed, with astonishment and terror, that the 
tall grass was bent over and trodden down, and that Ver- 
mund’s old trail bore every appearance of having been re- 
cently travelled. 


BANS OF ICELAND. 


185 


CHAPTER XX. 

Leonardo. The king asks for you. 

Henrique. How so? 

Lope de Vega: La Fuerza Lastimosa. 

Before the papers thickly strewn upon his desk, among 
them a number of newly opened letters, General Levin de 
Knud sat in profound meditation. A secretary stood close 
behind him, apparently waiting for orders. At one moment 
the general beat a tattoo with his spurs on the rich carpet 
extended beneath his feet ; again he toyed abstractedly with 
the decoration of the Elephant, hung about his neck by the 
collar of the order. From time to time he opened his mouth 
as if to speak, then paused, rubbed his forehead, and threw 
another glance at the opened despatches that covered the 
table. 

“ What the devil ! ” he finally called out. The exclamation 
was followed by another period of silence. “ Who could ever 
have fancied,” he went on, “ that those diabolical miners would 
have gone so far? There must have been some secret plot- 
ting to urge them to such a revolt. Do you realize, Wapher- 
ney, that this thing is serious ? Are you aware that five or 
six hundred scoundrels from the Faroe islands, led by an old 
bandit named Jonas, have deserted the mines ; that a young 
fanatic called Norbith has put himself at the head of the 
malcontents at Guldbranshal ; and that at Sund-Moër, Hub- 
fallo, and Kongsberg, the foolish fellows are only waiting for 
a signal, and may already have risen ? Do you know that the 
mountaineers are mixed up in the affair, and that one of the 
boldest foxes in Kole, old Kennybol, is their leader ? Do you 
know, lastly, that it is generally rumored in northern Dron- 


186 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


theimhus, if the syndics who write to me can be believed, 
that the famous scoundrel on whose head we set a price — 
the redoubtable Hans — is chief director of the insurrection? 
What do you say to all that, my dear Wapherney ? Eh ? ” 

“Your excellency/’ said Wapherney, “knows what meas- 
ures ” — 

“There is connected with this deplorable affair a circum- 
stance that I cannot understand ; and that is, that our old 
prisoner, Schumacker, should be, as they say he is, the author 
of the revolt. That seems to surprise nobody else, but it sur- 
prises me more than anything. It is hard for me to believe 
that a man could be a traitor when the loyal Ordener takes 
pleasure in being with him. And yet they assure me that 
the miners have risen in his name ; that his name is their 
watchword and rallying-cry ; they even give him the titles 
that the king took from him. All that seems to be well 
established ; but how is it that the Countess of Ahlefeld 
knew all these details six days ago," at a time when the 
first actual symptoms of the insurrection had barely showed 
themselves in the mines ? That is strange. Never mind ; 
we must be ready for any emergency. Give me my seal, 
Wapherney.” 

The general wrote three letters, sealed them, and gave 
them to the secretary. 

“Send this message to Baron Vœthaün, colonel of the 
arquebusiers stationed at Munckholm garrison, that his regi- 
ment may at once be marched against the rebels. This is 
for the commandant at Munckholm, ordering him to keep 
a more careful watch than ever over the ex-grand chancellor. 
I must myself see and question Schumacker. And this letter 
send to Skongen, to Major Wolhm, who is in command there, 
that he maj^ despatch a part of the garrison to the centre of 
the insurrection. Go, Wapherney, and have these orders 
promptly executed.” 

The secretary went out, leaving the governor absorbed in 
thought. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


18T 


“All this is very annoying,” he said to himself. “The 
miners in revolt over yonder, the intriguing chancellor here 
close by, that crazy Ordener, — no one knows where ! It may 
be that he is on his travels, right in the midst of those bandits, 
leaving Schumacher conspiring against the state, here under 
my protection, with his daughter, in whose behalf I have 
been indulgent enough to send away Frederic Ahlefeld’s com- 
pany, on account of Ordener’s accusation. Well, now, it 
seems to me that this very company might be quite useful 
in checking the first advance of the rioters; it is well sta- 
tioned for that. Wahlstrom, where it is in garrison, is near 
Lake Smiasen and the Arbar ruins. One or the other of 
those points the insurgents will be sure to seize.” 

At this stage of his revery the general was interrupted by 
the noise of an opening door. 

“ Well, Gustavus ; what do you want ? ” 

“ A messenger has arrived, general, and asks to see your 
excellency.” 

“ Well, what now ? More bad news probably. Show the 
messenger in.” 

“ Your excellency,” said the messenger, handing a package 
to the governor, “ this is from his serene highness, the 
viceroy.” 

“ By St. George,” the general exclaimed, with an expres- 
sion of surprise, as he quickty opened the despatch ; “ I 
believe they’ve all gone mad ! If the viceroy hasn’t ordered 
me to report to him at Bergen ! He says the matter is urgent, 
and by order of the king. Well, the urgent matter comes at 
a very suitable moment. ‘ The grand chancellor, who is now 
visiting Drontheimhus, will act as your substitute in your 
absence.’ He’s a substitute that I have very little faith in. 
‘The bishop will assist him.’ On my word, Frederic has 
picked out two good rulers for a revolting province, — two men 
of the robe, a chancellor and a bishop ! Well, well, the com- 
mands are indisputable, and they come from the king, so I 
must go ; but before my departure I want to see Schumacker 


188 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


and have a talk with him. I have a presentiment that they 
are trying to enmesh me in a labyrinth of intrigue, but I 
have for my guidance a compass that never deceives me, my 
conscience.” 


DANS OF ICELAND. 


189 


\ 


CHAPTER XXI. 


The voice of thy slain brother’s blood cries out, 

Ever from the ground, unto the Lord ! 

Cain; A Mystery . 1 

“ Yes, my lord count ; on this very day we ought to come 
up with him in Arbar ruins. Many considerations go to con- 
firm the truth of the information that I obtained last night, 
by accident as I told you, in Oëlmœ village.” 

“ Are we far from Arbar ruins ? ” 

“No ; they are close by Lake Smiasen. The guide informs 
me that we shall be there before noon.” 

These words were exchanged by two persons on horseback, 
wrapped up in brown cloaks, and following in the early morn- 
ing one of the numerous narrow and winding paths which 
traverse the forest in all directions between Lakes Smiasen 
and Sparbo. A mountain guide, carrying a horn and armed 
with an axe, went before them on his little gray horse ; and 
behind them came four other horsemen, armed to the teeth, 
towards whom the two speakers turned their heads from time 
to time, as if they feared to be overheard. 

“ If this Iceland brigand is really at Arbar ruins,” said one 
of the two speakers, keeping his horse respectfully a little 
behind the other, “ it will be one great point in our favor, for 
the difficult thing was to catch up with such an elusive 
creature.” 

“Do you think so, Musdœmon? And what if he rejects 
our propositions ? ” 

“ Impossible, your grace ! Gold and a free pardon — what 
brigand could resist that ? ” 


1 Byron. 


190 


IIANS OF ICELAND. 


“ B,tit you know that this brigand is no ordinary scoundrel, 
so do/n’t judge him by your own measure. If he refuses, how 
wilj. you fulfil the promise that you gave night before last 
to/ the three rebel leaders ? ” 

/ “ Well, noble count, in such an emergency, which I regard, 
'however, as impossible, if we have the good fortune to find 
our man, has your grace forgotten that a counterfeit Hans of 
Iceland will be waiting for me, two days from now, at the 
appointed hour, in the place of meeting assigned for the 
three leaders at the Blue Star, — a place, by the way, very 
near to Arbar ruins ? ” 

“ You are right, as usual, my dear Musdœmon,” said the 
noble count; and each of the two became absorbed in his own 
meditations. 

Musdœmon, whose interest it was to keep his master in 
good humor, thought to entertain him by addressing a ques- 
tion to the guide. 

“ See here, my good man, what is that shabby-looking stone 
cross, standing up there behind those small oaks ? ” 

The guide, a dull-eyed, stupid-looking fellow, turned and 
shook his head several times, saying, — 

“ Oh, my lord master, that is the oldest gallows in Norway. 
The good King Olaus had it built for a judge who made a 
compact with a brigand.” 

Musdœmon saw by his companion’s face that the guide’s 
words had made an impression entirely contrary to what he 
had hoped for. 

“ It was a very strange story,” the guide went on. “ Good 
mother Osie told me about it. They made the brigand hang 
the judge.” 

The unfortunate guide did not perceive, in his simplicity, 
that the subject with which he hoped to entertain the travel- 
lers was almost an insult to them. Musdœmon stopped him. 

“ There, there, that will do,” he said ; “ we know the story.” 

“ Insolent,” murmured the count, “ he knows the story ! 
Ah, Musdœmon, you shall pay dear for your impertinence.” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


191 


“ Did your grace speak ? ” said Musdœmon with an obse- 
quious air. 

“ I was thinking what measures to take to secure the order 
of Dannebrog for you. The marriage of my daughter Ulrica 
with Baron Ordener would afford a good opportun ity.” 

Musdœmon was profuse with his protestations and thanks. 

“ And now,” his grace continued, “ let us discuss matters a 
little. Do you think that the order for temporary recall has 
reached the Mecklemburger, as we intended that it should ? ” 

The reader will perhaps remember that the count was in 
the habit of speaking of General Levin de Knud, who was in 
fact a native of Mecklemburg, by this designation. 

“ ‘ Let us discuss matters a little ! ’ ” said Musdœmon to 
himself indignantly ; “ the matters that concern ipe, it seems, 
are not the matters that concern us. My lord count,” he went 
on, speaking aloud, “ I think that the viceroy’s messenger 
must be at this moment at Drontheim, and that General Levin 
is on the point of taking his departure.” 

“That order of recall, my dear fellow,” said the count, 
speaking affectionately, “ was one of your îuaster-strokes. It 
was one of the most ingenious and skilfully executed of all 
your projects.” 

“The honor belongs to your grace, as much as it does to 
me,” Musdœmon replied, taking pains, as we have previously 
said, to make the count a partner in all his plottings. The 
count understood Musdœmon’s secret intention, but pretended 
to ignore it. He began to smile. 

“ My dear confidential secretary, you are always modest ; 
but nothing can make me undervalue your eminent services. 
Elphega’s presence and the Mecklemburger’s absence make 
my triumph certain at Drontheim. I am now the chief 
authority in the province ; and if Hans of Iceland accepts the 
command of the rioters, which I intend to offer to him my- 
self, to me will belong, in the eyes of the king, the glory of 
having put down a serious insurrection, and of having captured 
a formidable brigand.” 


192 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


As they conversed thus in low tones, the guide turned back, 
and said, — 

“ My honorable masters, here at our left is the hill where 
Biord the Just, in the sight of all his army, beheaded Yellon 
of the double tongue, that traitor who sent away the king’s 
real defenders and called the enemy into the camp, that he 
might pose as the saviour of Biord’s life.”^ 

These traditions of old Norway did not seem to be very 
gratifying to Musdœmon, for he brusquely interrupted the 
guide. 

“ There, there, my good man ; stop talking and go ahead. 
What do we care for the stupid legends that ruined walls or 
dead trees recall to your memory ? My master is wearied 
with your old wives’ tales.” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


193 


CHAPTER XXII. 


Now the hungry lion roars, 

And the wolf behowls the moon ; 

Whilst the heavy ploughman snores, 

All with weary task foredone. 

Now the wasted brands do glow, 

Whilst the screech-owl, screeching loud, 

Puts the wretch that lies in woe 
In remembrance of a shroud. 

Now it is the time of night, 

That the graves, all gaping wide, 

Every one lets forth his sprite, 

In the churchway paths to glide. 

Shakespeare : Midsummer Night's Dream. 

Let us retrace our steps. We left Ordener and Spiagudry, 
just as the moon was rising, climbing tç>ilsomely the ap- 
proaches to the great cliff behind Oëlmœ. The cliff is bare 
from top to bottom; and the Norwegian peasants used to call 
it the Vulture’s Neck, — a name quite expressive of the shape 
of the enormous mass of granite when seen from a distance. 

As the travellers approached the naked portion of the cliff, 
the forest changed to bushes, moss took the place of grass, 
and the wild eglantine, the broom, and the holly succeeded to 
oaks and birches, in that impoverishment of vegetation which 
on high mountains always indicates proximity to the summit, 
by showing the gradual thinning of the layer of soil which 
clothes what might be called the mountain’s bones. 

“ My lord Ordener,” said Spiagudry, whose ever active 
mind was ceaselessly involved in a whirlwind of disconnected 
ideas, “ this ascent is very fatiguing, and to follow you called 
for all the devotion — But it seems to me that I see a mag- 
nificent convolvulus over there on the right ; I’d give a good 


194 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


deal to get hold of it. Why didn’t we come by daylight ? 
Don’t you think that it was very impertinent to value a 
learned person like me at four paltry crowns ? Of course, 
the famous Phædrus was a slave ; and Æsop, if we are to 
believe the learned Planudius, was sold in the market like a 
beast or a chattel, and who would not be proud to have any 
relation whatever to the celebrated Æsop ? ” 

“ And with the celebrated Hans ? ” added Ordener smilingly. 

“ By St. Hospitius,” the keeper responded, “ don’t speak 
his name in that way. I can dispense very well, I assure 
you, my lord, with the resemblance that you have suggested ; 
but would it not be strange if the price set upon his head 
finally came into the hands of Benignus Spiagudry, his com- 
panion in misfortune ? My lord Ordener, you are more 
generous than Jason ; for he did not give the golden fleece 
to the Argo’s pilot, and certainly your enterprise, the object 
of which I do not wholly understand, is not less perilous than 
Jason’s.” 

“ Well,” said Ordener, “ since you know Hans of Iceland, 
give me some information about him. You have already told 
me that he is not a giant, as he is commonly reputed to be.” 

“Wait, master!” Spiagudry interrupted. “Don’t you 
hear the sound of footsteps behind us ? ” 

“ Yes,” the young man responded tranquilly. “ Don’t be 
frightened, — ’tis some wild beast, alarmed by our approach, 
and moving away through the bushes.” 

“ You are right, my young Cæsar. ’Tis a long while since 
these woods were traversed by human beings. Judging by 
the ponderous tread, the animal must be large. It must be 
an elk or a reindeer ; this part of Norway is filled with them. 
There are lynxes around here too. I saw one of them that 
had been taken to Copenhagen ; it was of monstrous size. I 
must give you a description of the ferocious animal.” 

“ My dear guide,” said Ordener, “ I would much rather 
have you give me a description of another not less ferocious 
monster, that terrible Hans.” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


195 


“ Speak softly, my lord ! To think that the young master 
should so quietly utter such a name ! You are not aware — 
Good God, master, just listen ! ” 

Spiagudry, as he spoke these words, drew nearer to Or-^ 
dener, who heard very distinctly a sound similar to the rum- 
bling that, if the reader remembers, so greatly frightened the 
timid keeper on the stormy night when they left Drontheim. 

“ Did you hear it ? ” he murmured, panting with fear. 

“ Of course,” said Ordener ; “ and I don’t see why you 
should be so agitated. ’Tis the roaring of some wild beast, 
perhaps simply the cry of one of the lynxes you were talking 
about just now. Did you think that you could go through a 
place like this, at such an hour, without being reminded in 
the least of the presence of the beasts that you disturb ? I’ll 
warrant you, old man, that they are more frightened than you 
are.” 

Seeing the calmness of his young companion, Spiagudry 
became a little more courageous. 

“ Well, it may very well be, my lord, that you are right ; 
but that beast’s cry was horribly like a voice. It was an un- 
fortunate moment, permit me to sqy to you, my lord, when 
you decided to climb up to Yermund’s castle. I fear that 
disaster will come upon us on the Vulture’s Neck.” 

“ You’re all right, as long as you are with me,” responded 
Ordener. 

“ Oh, nothing alarms you ; but, my lord, only the blessed 
St. Paul can take up vipers without being bitten. Perhaps 
you didn’t notice, when we struck into this cursed path, that 
it seemed to have been recently used, and that the trodden 
grass had not had time to straighten up after the footsteps of 
some traveller.” 

“ I acknowledge that I did not notice particularly. My 
mental tranquillity does not in the least depend on a flattened 
blade of grass. Now we are about to get beyond the bushes, 
and we shall hear no more footsteps or whining beasts; I 
shall not, therefore, my brave guide, urge you to summon up 


196 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


your courage, but rather your bodily strength, for the path 
that has been cut in the rock will no doubt be more difficult 
than this.” 

“ It is not, my lord, on account of its steepness ; but Suck- 
son, the learned traveller, informs us that it is frequently 
obstructed by pieces of rock and heavy stones, that cannot be 
lifted aside, and are very hard to climb over. Among them is 
an enormous triangular block of granite, that I have always 
eagerly longed to see, not far beyond the Malaër postern, 
which we are approaching. Schoenning declares that he 
found the three primitive Runic characters there.” 

For some time the travellers had been climbing up the 
naked cliff; and they had reached a small crumbling tower, 
through which they were obliged to pass, and to which Spia- 
gudry called Ordener’s attention. 

“ That is the Malaër postern, my lord. This rock-hewn road 
is marked by several other noteworthy structures, which show 
what the ancient fortifications of the Norwegian manor-houses 
were like. This postern, which was always guarded by four 
men-at-arms, was the outermost point of Vermund’s fort. By 
the way, speaking of ‘ portal/ or ‘postern/ the monk Urensius 
makes this significant observation: ‘ The word janua, which 
comes from Janus , whose temple had such celebrated portals, 
may perhaps have been the source of the word janissary, a 
guardian of the Sultan’s palace.’ It would be curious if 
the name of the gentlest prince known to history had come 
to be applied to the most ferocious soldiers that exist on 
earth.” 

While the keeper was letting loose this jumble of erudi- 
tion, they continued to make their way, with some degree of 
difficulty, over the rolling stones and sharp pebbles which 
were scattered upon the short and slippery grass that is some- 
times found in such places. Ordener forgot his fatigue in 
dreaming of the happiness that he would have at again get- 
ting sight of distant Munckholm, when all at once Spiagudry 
exclaimed, — 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


197 


“ Ah, I see it ! This sight alone compensates me for all 
my trouble. I see it, my lord ; I see it ! ” 

“ See what ? ” asked Ordener, thinking at that moment of 
Ethel. 

“ Why, my lord, the triangular pyramid that Schoenning 
spoke of ! After Professor Schoenning and Bishop Isleif, I am 
the third to have the pleasure of examining it. It is too bad, 
though, to have no other light but that of the moon.” 

As they drew near to the famous monument, Spiagudry 
uttered a cry of grief and terror. Ordener was surprised, and 
inquired eagerly as to the cause of his emotion ; but it was 
some time before the archaeologist was able to make any 
reply. 

“You thought,” said. Ordener, “that the stone blocked the 
the way ; you ought to be glad to find that it really leaves a 
perfectly clear path.” 

“ And that is just exactly what troubles me,” said Benig- 
nus sorrowfully. 

“ How is that ? ” 

“ Why, my lord,” the keeper responded, “ don’t you see 
that the pyramid has been moved from its position, that the 
base, which once stood directly in the path, is now turned 
uppermost, while the other side, upon which Schoenning 
discovered the primitive Runic characters, rests upon the 
earth ? What a misfortune ! ” 

“ Yes, that is really too bad,” said the young man. 

“And more than that,” Spiagudry went on, with great 
earnestness, “the fact that the pyramid has been moved 
shows that some superhuman being has been here. Unless 
the devil himself did it, there is only one man in Norway 
with arms strong enough ” — 

“My poor guide, your fears are once more getting the 
better of you. How do you know that this stone has not 
been in this position for more than a century ? ” 

“ It is a hundred and fifty years, in fact,” said Spiagudry, 
in a calmer tone, “ since the last observer made a study of its 


198 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


details ; but it looks to me as if it had been recently moved, 
for the place where it stood is still damp. Look, my lord.” 

Ordener was so impatient to get to the ruins, that he 
dragged his guide away from the wonderful pyramid, and by 
various' sagacious comments succeeded in dissipating the 
fears that the extraordinary phenomenon had aroused in the 
old scholar’s mind. 

“ Listen, old man ; you can make your home on the shores 
of this lake, and give yourself up without further care to 
your important researches, after you have received the one 
thousand royal crowns that Hans’s head will bring you.” 

“ You are right, my noble lord ; but do not speak so flip- 
pantly of a victory not yet won. I must give you a bit of 
advice that will make it much easier for you to get the better 
of that monster.” 

“ A bit of advice ? What is it ? ” said Ordener, drawing 
close to Spiagudry. 

“ Well, the brigand,” said the keeper in a low tone, glancing 
uneasily about him, “the brigand carries a skull at his belt, 
and is accustomed to drink from it. It is the skull of his 
son, whose corpse was mutilated, — a deed for which I am 
being hunted.” 

“ Speak a little louder, and don’t be so frightened. I can 
scarcely hear you. Well, this skull ? ” 

“ That skull,” said Spiagudry, leaning over and whispering 
in the young man’s ear, “ you must if possible get hold of. 
The monster has all sorts of superstitious ideas about it. 
When you get his son’s skull into your power, you can do 
whatever you like with him.” 

“ Very well, my good man ; but how shall I get possession 
of the skull ? ” 

“By stratagem, my lord. While the monster is asleep, 
perhaps ” — 

“That will do,” Ordener interrupted. “Your bit of ad- 
vice is of no use to me. I know nothing about a sleeping 
foe; I do my fighting with a sword.” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


199 


“ But, my lord, is it not a well-known fact that the Arch- 
angel Michael overthrew Satan by strategy ? ” 

At this point Spiagudry suddenly paused, and stretched 
both arms out before him, exclaiming in a barely audible 
tone, — 

“Oh, great heavens! What do I see up there? Look, 
master ; is not that a little man walking in front of us along 
the path ? ” 

“On my word,” said Ordener, lifting his eyes, “I see 
nothing of the sort.” 

“Nothing, my lord? Ah, the path makes a bend there, 
and he disappeared behind that rock ! Let us not go any 
farther, my lord, I beseech you.” 

“Well, if the person you think you saw. has disappeared so 
quickly, you may conclude that he had no intention of wait- 
ing for us ; and if he has taken to flight, that is no reason 
why we should run away from him.” 

“ Watch over us, St. Hospitius ! ” said Spiagudry, who in 
moments of peril never forgot his patron saint. 

“You saw the flitting shadow of a frightened owl,” said 
Ordener, “ and you thought it was a man.” 

“ And yet I was very sure that I saw a little man, but it is 
true that moonlight often occasions strange fancies. ’Twas 
by moonlight that Baldan, the lord of Merneugh, mistook his 
white bed-curtain for his mother’s ghost ; and the next day he 
went and confessed his crime to the judges at Christiania, who 
were just about to condemn her innocent page. It would be 
fair to say, in that case, that the moonlight saved the page’s 
life.” 

No one could surpass Spiagudry in the faculty of forgetting 
the present in the past. A single recollection, drawn from his 
inexhaustible memory, was enough to banish all immediate 
impressions. Thus the story about Baldan drove away his 
fears, and he went on in a tranquil voice, — 

“ ’Tis possible that the moonlight deceived me in the same 
way.” 


200 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


In the meantime they were approaching the summit of the 
Vulture’s Neck, and began to see the ruins again which had 
been hidden from them by the curvature of the rock as they 
climbed upwards. 

The reader need not be surprised at such frequent en- 
counters with ruins among the Norway mountains. Whoever 
has travelled through the mountainous portions of Europe 
will not have failed frequently to observe the remains of for- 
tresses and castles, hanging to the crests of the highest peaks 
like ancient vultures’ nests or the eyries of dead eagles. In 
Norway, especially at the time when we are supposed to be 
there, these aerial structures existed in astonishing number 
and variety. Sometimes they took the shape of long dis- 
mantled walls, skirting a rock ; sometimes they appeared as 
slender pointed turrets, surmounting a lofty peak like a 
crown ; or on the whitened apex of some tall mountain, great 
towers were grouped about a majestic donjon, and viewed 
from a distance looked like an antique tiara. 

Side by side with the graceful ogive arches of a Gothic 
cloister, the massive Egyptian pillars of a Saxon church might 
be seen ; close to the square-towered citadel of a Pagan chief, 
the battlemented fortress of a Christian war lord; and in 
juxtaposition with a crumbling fortress citadel, a monastery 
destroyed by war. All these structures, a medley of extraor- 
dinary architecture after ideas almost unknown to-day, auda- 
ciously constructed on apparently inaccessible elevations, had 
fallen into a mass of ruins that served after a fashion to 
illustrate both the power and the feebleness of man. Perhaps 
within those walls once took place events more worthy of 
being related than anything else that has been told on earth; 
but those events have vanished, the eyes that saw them are 
closed, for traditions die out with the lapse of time like a fire 
that is never replenished, and who can penetrate the myste- 
ries of the centuries that are passed ? 

The manor-house built by Vermund the Proscribed, at 
which our two travellers are just arriving, was the object, 


BANS OF ICELAND. 


201 


according to tradition, of an extraordinary array of supersti- 
tious beliefs and miraculous adventures. The walls, built of 
large pebbles laid in cement that had become harder than the 
stone, showed at once that it had been built in the fifth or 
sixth century. Of its five towers, one only remained erect 
at full height ; the four others were more or less dismantled, 
and the fallen fragments were scattered over the top of the 
cliff. They were united by stretches of ruined walls indicat- 
ing the original limits of the castle court. It was very diffi- 
cult to get into this courtyard ; for it was obstructed by stone 
blocks of granite, and trailing vines of all kinds, which ran 
from wall to wall, covering the masonry with a thick screen, 
and swung their long, waving tentacles over the front of the 
precipice. On these loose branches, so Twas said, the misty 
ghosts of those who had drowned themselves in Sparbo were 
wont to swing by moonlight, and at the behest of the demon 
of the lake, hold the cloud upon which he was to ride away at 
dawn. Alarming mysteries these, which had been seen more 
than once by audacious fishermen, when they took advantage 
of the sleeping dogfish , 1 and brought their boats close under 
Oëlmœ cliff, which rose above them in the darkness like the 
broken arch of some colossal bridge. 

Our two adventurers climbed with some difficulty through 
the outer wall, taking advantage of a chance opening, for the 
old gateway was blocked. The only tower which, as we have 
said, remained standing, was situated at the edge of the cliff. 
From its summit, Spiagudry told Ordener one could see 
Munckholm beacon. They went towards it; although the 
darkness at this moment was profound, the moon being wholly 
concealed behind a great black cloud. They were just enter- 
ing a breach in another wall, on their way to what had been 
the inner courtyard, when Benignus suddenly paused, and 
seized Ordener’s arm with a hand which trembled so violently 
that the young man himself was shaken. 

1 Dogfish are greatly dreaded by fishermen, because they frighten other 
fish. 


202 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ What is it ? ” said Ordener in surprise. Benignus did not 
reply, but compressed his arm still more vehemently, as if 
demanding silence. “But” — the young man protested. A 
tightened grasp, accompanied by a half-stifled sigh, decided 
him to wait patiently until the fit of alarm had passed. 
Finally Spiagudry said, in a husky tone, — - 
“ Well, master, what do you think of th&t ? ” 

“ Of what ? ” said Ordener. 

“Yes, my lord,” the other went on in the same tone; “you 
must be sorry now that you ever came up here ! ” 

“Not at all, my worthy guide. I hope to go higher than 
this. Why should I be sorry ? ” 

“ Can it be, my lord, that you did not see ? ” 

“ See what ? ” 

“ You did not see ! ” the worthy keeper repeated, his terror 
momentarily increasing. 

“ Nothing whatever,” responded Ordener impatiently ; “ I 
saw nothing, and I heard nothing except the noise of your 
chattering teeth.” 

“ What ! can it be that you didn’t see those two flaming 
eyes staring at us like comets behind the wall there in the 
shadow ? ” 

“ On my honor, no.” 

“ You did not see them move about, rise up, go down, and 
disappear behind the ruins ? ” 

“ I don’t know what you’re talking about. What difference 
does it make, anyway ? ” 

“ What, my lord Ordener ! do you know that there is only 
one man in Norway whose eyes shine after that fashion in 
the dark ? ” 

“Well, what then ? Who is the man with cat’s eyes ? Is 
it your redoubtable Icelander ? All the better if he is here ; 
that will save us the trouble of a journey to Walderhog.” 

This “ all the better ” was not at all to Spiagudry’s taste ; 
and the old man could not refrain from revealing his thoughts 
in the involuntary exclamation, — 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


203 


“ But, my lord, you promised to leave me at Surb, a mile 
from the place of combat.” 

“ You are right, old man,” repliéd the good-hearted, noble- 
natured Ordener, in smiling comprehension ; “ it would be 
unjust to involve you in my dangerous undertaking. Don’t 
be alarmed; you seem to see Hans of Iceland everywhere. 
Wasn’t it a wild-cat whose eyes you saw shining so bril- 
liantly among the ruins ? ” 

For the fifth time Spiagudry was reassured, either because 
Ordener’s explanation seemed reasonable enough, or because 
the tranquillity of his young companion was not without its 
influence. 

“ Ah, my lord, if it were not for you, I should have per- 
ished from fear a dozen times climbing over these rocks. 
However, if it had not been for you I should not have ven- 
tured.” 

The moon now reappeared, and permitted them to see the 
entrance to the tall tower, at the foot of which they were 
standing. They entered, pushing back a thick curtain of ivy, 
and bringing down upon their heads a perfect shower of 
sleeping lizards and old bird’s-nests. The keeper picked up 
two pebbles and struck them together, letting the sparks fall 
into a heap of dead leaves and dry branches which Ordener 
gathered. In a moment a clear flame broke forth, scattering 
the darkness about them, and allowing them to examine the 
interior of the tower. 

Nothing remained of it but the circular wall, which was 
very thick, and covered with ivy and moss. The ceilings of 
the four stories had fallen, one after the other, to the bottom, 
where they formed an enormous heap of fragments. A nar- 
row staircase, with no railing, and broken in several places, 
rose in a spiral along the inner surface of the wall to the very 
top. At the first crackling of the blaze, a cloud of owls and 
ospreys flew heavily away with astonished and lugubrious out- 
cries, and great bats came up at intervals and fanned the fire 
with their ashy wings. 


204 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ Our hosts don’t seem to receive us very joyfully,” said 
Ordener ; “ but don’t go to getting frightened again.” 

“ I, my lord ! ” Spiagudry responded, seating himself by 
the fire ; “ I frightened at an owl or a bat ! I have lived 
with corpses, and did not fear vampires. Ah, I fear none but 
the living ! I am not brave, I acknowledge, but neither am 
I superstitious. Now, if you agree with me, my lord, you 
will smile at these black-winged, harsh-voiced dames, and 
think about supper.” Ordener could think of nothing but 
Munckholm. 

“ I have some provisions here,” said Spiagudry, taking his 
knapsack from under his coat ; “but if your appetite is equal 
to mine, this black bread and rank cheese will soon disappear. 
I see that we shall be obliged to stay a good ways outside the 
limits of the law laid down by the French king, Philippe le 
Bel, — Nemo audeat comedere prceter duo fercula cum potagio. 
There ought surely to be sea-gulls’ or pheasants’ nests at the 
top of the tower; but how are we to get up there, over a 
tottering staircase fit only for sylphs ? ” 

“ Nevertheless,” Ordener responded, “ it will have to carry 
me ; for I shall certainly climb to the top of the tower.” 

“ What, master, to get sea-gulls’ eggs ? Don’t, I beg of 
you, be so venturesome. It’s not worth while to kill yourself 
to get a better supper ; more than that, bear in mind that 
you might make a mistake, and get owls’ eggs.” 

“ Yes, your nests are very important. Didn’t you tell me 
that one could see Munckholm donjon from the top of this 
tower ? ” 

“ That is true, young master, — toward the south. I see 
now that your desire to fix this important geographical point 
was your motive for making this wearisome journey to Ver- 
mund’s castle ; but please remember, my noble lord Ordener, 
that although duty may call a zealous student to brave fa- 
tigue, it never should lead him into danger. I beg of you 
not to venture upon that treacherous, ruined staircase, where 
a crow would not dare to perch.” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


205 


Benignus was not at all desirous of being left alone in the 
bottom of the tower. As he got up to take Ordener by the 
hand, his knapsack fell from its resting-place on his knees, 
and struck the stones with a ringing sound. 

“ What’s that in your knapsack that makes such a clatter ? ” 
Ordener inquired. 

The question touched upon a delicate subject for Spiagu- 
dry, and deprived him of his desire to restrain his young com- 
panion. 

“All right,” he said, without responding to the question; 
“since you are bound to go to the top in spite of my en- 
treaties, look out for the breaks in the staircase.” 

“ But,” Ordener persisted, “ what was it in your knapsack 
that made that metallic sound ? ” 

His indiscreet persistency was mightily displeasing to the 
old keeper, who cursed his questioner from the bottom of his 
heart. 

“ There, there, noble master,” he replied ; “ why are you so 
curious about a trifling iron shaving-dish, because it struck 
a stone ? Since I cannot dissuade you,” he hastened to add, 
“don’t stay any longer than you can help, and be careful 
to hold on to the vines that cover the wall. You will see 
Munckholm beacon between Frigga’s Stools at the south.” 

Spiagudry could have said nothing more likely to banish 
every other thought from the young man’s mind. Ordener 
threw off his cloak, and sprang toward the staircase, the 
keeper following him with his eyes until nothing was visible 
but a vague shadow gliding along the top of the wall, which 
was but feebly lighted by the wavering flames below, and the 
peaceful radiance of the moon. Then the watcher sat down 
again, and picked up his knapsack. 

“ My dear Benignus Spiagudry,” he said, “ while that young 
lynx is out of sight and you are alone, suppose you hurry up 
and break the superfluous iron barrier which prevents you 
from taking possession, oculis et manu , of the treasure doubt- 
less contained in this casket. When it is delivered from 


206 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


imprisonment, it will be less awkward to carry and easier 
to hide.” 

Armed with a big stone, he was about to break open the 
cover, when a ray of light fell upon the iron seal with which 
it was fastened, and caught the antiquarian’s attention. 

“ By St. Willebrod the Numismatist, I am not mistaken,” 
he exclaimed, briskly rubbing the rusty cover ; “ these are the 
arms of Griffenfeld. I should have done a very stupid thing 
in breaking that seal. Probably this is the only specimen 
remaining of the famous crest that was broken in 1676 by the 
executioner’s hand. In the devil’s name, we mustn’t touch 
the cover; whatever be the value of the objects it conceals, 
unless they may be, what is altogether improbable, Palmyra 
coins or Carthaginian medals, it is certainly more precious. 
Behold me, then, sole proprietor of the rescinded arms of 
Griffenfeld ! We must hide this treasure carefully. It may 
be that I shall discover some secret way of opening the casket 
without committing vandalism. The Griffenfeld arms ! Oh ! 
yes ; here are the hand of justice and the scales on a field 
gules ! What good fortune ! ” 

At each new heraldic discovery that he made in rubbing off 
the rust from the old seal, he uttered a cry of admiration or 
an exclamation of pleasure. 

“ By the aid of a dissolvent I can open the lock without 
breaking the seal. These, no doubt, are the ex-chancellor’s 
treasures. If any one tempted by the syndic’s four crowns’ 
bait should recognize and arrest me, I should have no difficulty 
in purchasing my liberty. In that contingency, this blessed 
box will be my salvation.” 

Thus speaking, he involuntarily raised his eyes, and his 
grotesque features let fall in the twinkling of an eye their 
expression of foolish delight to take on the stamp of idiotic 
terror. His limbs trembled convulsively, his eyes were fixed, 
his brows contracted, his mouth opened, and his voice died 
away in his throat like an extinguished candle. 

Opposite to him, on the other side of the fire, stood a little 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


207 


man. with folded arms. By his bloody fur garments, his stone 
axe, his red beard, and the fierce stare in his eye, the unfor- 
tunate keeper recognized at first glance the formidable creature 
who had last visited him in Drontheim Spladgest. 

“ ’Tis I !” said the little man solemnly. “The casket will 
be your salvation,” he added with an ironical smile. “ Spia- 
gudry, is this the road to Thoctree ? ” 

“ Thoctree ? ” stuttered the unfortunate wretch, trying to 
articulate a few words. “ My lord — my lord master — I was 
going” — 

“ You were going to Walderhog,” the other interposed in a 
voice of thunder. The terrified Spiagudry brought all his 
energy to bear and shook his head. “ You were bringing an 
enemy upon me ; many thanks ; there will be one living 
man the less. Fear nothing, faithful guide ; he will follow 
you.” 

The unfortunate keeper tried to make an outcry, but only a 
feeble, ineffective murmur came from his lips. 

“ Why does my presence alarm you so ? You were seeking 
for me. Listen; if you make any noise, you are a dead 
man.” 

The little man waved his stone axe over the keeper’s head, 
and went on in a voice that poured from his chest like the roar 
of a mountain torrent, “You have betrayed me !” 

“ No, your grace ; no, your excellency,” said Benignus, 
finally articulating with difficulty these few entreating words. 

“ Ah, you want to deceive me again ! ” said the other, break- 
ing into a bellow. “ Don’t deceive yourself. Listen ; I was 
on the roof of the Spladgest when you made your compact 
with that crazy fellow ; twice you heard my voice. ’Twas I 
you heard in the storm along the highway ; ’twas I you found 
in Vygla tower ; ’twas I who said, ‘ Till we meet again ’ ! ” 

The terror-stricken keeper cast a wild glance around him, 
as if appealing for succor. The little man went on, — 

“ I was not willing to allow the soldiers who were pursu- 
ing you to escape my clutches. They belonged to a Munck- 


208 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


holm regiment. As for you, I was sure of you at any time. 
Spiagudry, you saw me at Oëlmœ village under a miner’s 
hat; you heard my footsteps and my voice, and you recog- 
nized the glare of my eyes, as you climbed up to these ruins. 
I am here ! ” 

Alas, the unfortunate keeper was only too well aware of 
that fact ! He fell like a stone at the feet of his relentless 
judge, and exclaimed in a pitiful, half-stifled voice, “Have 
mercy ! ” 

The little man, with folded arms, looked at him with a 
devouring glance, more flaming than the fire. 

“ Beg for salvation from the casket whence you expected 
to obtain it,” he said ironically. 

“ Have mercy, my lord, have mercy ! ” repeated Spiagudry, 
almost swooning. 

“ I advised you to be faithful and say nothing. You have 
not been faithful ; but I will answer for it that in the future 
you shall be dumb.” 

Understanding the horrible import of his words, the keeper 
uttered a prolonged groan. 

“ Don’t be alarmed,” said the little man ; “ I will not sepa- 
rate you from your treasure.” 

With these words he unfastened his leather belt, drew it 
through the handle of the casket, and hung it about Spiagu- 
dry’s neck. The keeper bent with the weight of his burden. 

“Well,” the other went on, “to what demon do you desire 
to commit your soul ? Summon him quickly, lest another 
devil, of whom you, are not so fond, get the first grip.” 

The despairing old man, too much beside himself to utter a 
word, fell at the little man’s feet, and made a thousand signs 
of entreaty and terror. 

“No, no,” said the other. “ Listen, my faithful Spiagudry; 
don’t be so regretful at leaving your young companion in this 
way, without a guide. I promise you he shall go where you 
go. Follow me ; you will simply be showing him the road. 
Come ! ” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


At this he grasped the poor wretch in his iron arms, and 
bore him out of the tower like a tiger carrying a great snake ; 
and a moment later there went up from the ruin a great cry, 
intermingled with a horrible outburst of laughter. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


Yes, 

The limner’s art may trace the absent feature, 

And give the eye of distant, weeping faith 
To view the form of its idolatry; 

But, oh, the scenes mid which they met and parted ; 

The thoughts, the recollections, sweet and bitter, 

The Elysian dreams of lovers, when they loved, — 

Who shall restore them? 

Maturin: Bertram. 

In the meanwhile, the adventurous Ordener, after nar- 
rowly escaping a score of times from falling in his perilous 
ascent, finally reached the top of the massive circular tower 
wall. At his unexpected arrival, a host of old black owls, 
rudely disturbed in their rookeries, flew to one side, watching 
him with their great staring eyes ; and loose stones, slip- 
ping from under his feet, fell over into the abyss, bounding 
from the projecting rocks below with gradually diminishing 
clangor. 

At any other moment Ordener would have allowed his 
eyes and his thoughts to wander long over the immense 
expanse, whose magnitude was made even more impressive by 
the obscurity of the night. His eye, catching sight of the 
great shadows on the horizon, with their sombre contours but 
slightly whitened by the nebulous moon, would have sought 
carefully to distinguish the mists among the cliffs and the 
mountain tops among the clouds. His imagination would 
have given life to all the gigantic forms and fantastic ap- 
pearances with which moonlight endows such scenes. He 
would have listened to the far-off, vague murmurs of the lake 
and the forest, mingled with the sharp crackle of the withered 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


211 


leaves that the wind kept dancing under his feet, and his 
fancy would have found a hidden language in all the myriad 
voices that nature utters in the silence of the night-time, 
while man sleeps. But although the scene made but a slight 
impression upon his inner being, other thoughts occupied his 
attention. His feet had barely reached the summit of the 
wall, when his eye turned toward the southern heavens, and 
an indescribable joy swept over him as he saw a luminous 
point, gleaming on the horizon like a reddish star, in the 
angle made by two mountain peaks. It was Munckholm 
beacon. 

They who cannot understand the happiness that the young 
man felt are not destined to taste to the full the true delights 
of existence. His whole heart expanded with rapture ; his 
breathing was quick and deep and strong. Motionless he 
stood there, with tense gaze, watching his star of consolation 
and of hope. It seemed to him as if that ray of light, borne 
through night’s bosom from the spot where dwelt all his feli- 
city, brought to him something of Ethel’s presence. Ah, let 
us not deny that souls have sometimes mysterious ways of 
communication through time and space ! Vainly does the 
world of matter lift its barriers between two souls that love ; 
dwelling in the ideal world, they are together in absence and 
united in death. What, in fact, is corporeal separation and 
physical distance to two hearts bound invincibly by one 
thought and mutual desire ? True love may suffer, but it 
cannot die. 

Who has not paused a hundred times, on rainy nights, 
under some dimly lighted window ? Who has not paced back 
and forth before some magic door, or wandered in ecstasy 
about a chosen dwelling ? Who has not suddenly turned 
aside at night to follow through the windings of a deserted 
street a fluttering skirt or bit of white drapery, whose iden- 
tity had been intuitively recognized ? He who is not familiar 
with such emotions knows not what it is to love. 

Confronted by the distant Munckholm beacon, Ordener was 


212 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


absorbed in thought. His first feeling of joy had been suc- 
ceeded by one of sad and cynical contentment; a thousand 
divergent sentiments pressed upon his agitated soul. “ Yes,” 
he said to himself, “ one must climb long and painfully to get 
a glimpse of happiness in the expanse of night. She is there, 
she sleeps, she dreams ; she thinks, perhaps, of me ! But 
how is she to know that her Ordener is at this moment stand- 
ing in sadness and alone, in the darkness at the edge of an 
abyss ? — her Ordener, whose souvenirs of her cluster about a 
lock of hair worn next his heart, and a wavering light on the 
horizon ! ” Then, letting his glance fall upon the reddish 
reflection of the fire that had been lighted inside the tower, 
and shone out through the crevices in the wall, he murmured, 
“ Perhaps from the window of her distant prison she looks 
indifferently at the radiance that has been kindled here.” 

Suddenly a great cry and an outburst of laughter echoed 
about him, coming apparently from below, at the brink of the 
precipice ; he turned quickly and saw that the interior of the 
tower was deserted. In his disquietude with regard to the 
old man, he hastened to descend ; but he had got down only 
a few steps when he heard a heavy splash, like that which 
might have been made by a large body falling into the deep 
waters of the lake. 


BANS OF ICELAND. 


218 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


The count, Don Sancho Diaz, lord of Saldana, shed hitter tears in his 
prison. Filled with despair, he gave vent in his solitude to accusa- 
tions against King Alphonso, — “Oh, melancholy moments, when my 
white hairs remind me of how many years I have already passed in this 
horrible place ! ” — Spanish Romances. 


The horizontal rays of the setting snn cast the black shadow 
of the window-grating upon Schumacker’s woollen cloak and 
Ethel’s crêpe gown. The two were seated by the high ogive 
casement, the old man in a large Gothic armchair, the young 
girl on a stool at his feet. The prisoner was in a characteris- 
tic attitude of melancholy reflection. His bald and wrinkled 
forehead rested in his hands, and nothing of his face could be 
seen but the white beard that fell in disorder upon his breast. 

“ My father,” said Ethel, seeking some means for distract- 
ing his mind, “my lord and father, I had last night such an 
auspicious dream. Look, my noble father, — lift your eyes 
and look at the beautiful sky.” 

“ I can only see the sky through prison bars,” the old man 
responded ; “ and I can only see your future, Ethel, throygh 
my misfortunes.” 

Then his head, which had been raised for a moment, fell 
back into his hands, and both were silent. 

“ My lord and father,” the young girl went on shyly, after 
a moment, “ is it of Lord Ordener that you are thinking ? ” 

“ Ordener ? ” said the old man, as if he had not clearly 
understood what was being said to him. “ Ah, I know what 
you mean. Well ? ” 

“ Do you think he will return soon, father ? It is a long 
time since he went away. This is the fourth day.” 

“ I fear,” said the old man, sadly shaking his head, “ that 


214 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


when four days more of his absence are gone by, we shall be 
as near to his return as we are to-day.” 

“ Good heavens,” responded Ethel, turning pale, “ do you 
think that he will never come back ? ” 

Schumacker made no reply. The young girl repeated her 
question in supplicating and anxious tones. 

“ Didn’t he say that he would come back ? ” exclaimed the 
prisoner sharply. 

“ Yes, of course he did, my lord ! ” replied Ethel earnestly. 

“ Very well ; then how can you count upon his return ? Is 
he not a man ? The vulture perhaps will return to a dead 
body, but springtime never comes again to the expiring year.” 

Seeing that her father had fallen again into melancholy ab- 
straction, Ethel was reassured. In her child-like heart there 
was a voice that imperiously denied the old man’s philosophy. 

“ My father,” she said firmly, “ Lord Ordener will return. 
He is not like other men.” 

“ How do you know that, my girl ? ” 

“ I know, at least, as much about him as you, my lord and 
father.” 

“ I know nothing about him,” said the old man. “ I heard 
a man expressing godlike sentiments.” Then he added, with 
a bitter laugh, “ I have thought it over, and I have come to the 
conclusion that it was too fine to believe.” 

“ And I, my lord, believe precisely because it is fine.” 

“ Ah, my girl, if you were what you ought to be, Countess 
of Tonsberg and Princess of Wollin, surrounded, as you would 
be, by a court of handsome traitors and self-seeking adorers, 
your credulity would put you in great dauger.” 

“ My lord and father, it is not credulity, — it is confi- 
dence.” 

“ It is very evident, Ethel, that you have French blood in 
your veins.” 

The idea thus suggested took the old man back by a natural 
transition to his recollections ; and he went on, almost com- 
placently, — 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


215 


“ At least, those who cast your father down farther than 
he had ever been exalted, cannot prevent you from being the 
daughter of Carlotta, Princess of Tarento, or from having as 
one of your ancestors Adèle, or Édèle, Countess of Flanders, 
whose name you bear.” 

“ My father, you are unjust to the noble Ordener,” said 
Ethel, whose thoughts were elsewhere. 

“ Noble, my daughter ; what meaning do you give to that 
word ? I have made nobles, and they have turned out vil- 
lains.” 

“ I did not mean to say, my lord, that he is noble simply in 
title.” 

“ Do you mean that you know him to be descended from a 
jarl or a hersa ?” 1 

“ As to that, my father, I am ignorant, just as you are. He 
may be, perhaps,” she went on, lowering her eyes, “ the son of 
a serf or a vassal. Alas, crests of nobility may be painted on 
a strip of carpet. I was simply trying to express your idea, 
my venerated lord, and to say that he is noble at heart.” 

Of all the men that she had known, Ethel knew Ordener 
both least and best. He had come into her existence like one 
of the angels who visited Paradise, surrounded with radiance 
and mystery ; their presence alone revealed their character, 
and they were adored. Thus Ordener had allowed Ethel to 
see his heart, which most men conceal. He had kept silence 
on a subject which most men in his position would have wil- 
lingly boasted of, his country and his family. The look in 
his eyes had been enough for Ethel, and she had felt confi- 
dence in his speech. She loved him, she had given herself to 
him, she knew his nature thoroughly ; but she did not know 
his name. 

“ Noble at heart,” the old man repeated, “ noble at heart! 
Such nobility as that is above anything that kings can give ; 

1 The ancient nobility of Norway, before Griffenfeld established the new 
order, bore the titles of hersa (baron) ox jarl (count). From this latter word 
is derived the English title, earl. 


216 


BANS OF ICELAND. 


it comes from God. He deals it out with a careful hand/’ — 
here the prisoner lifted his eyes to his broken coat-of-arms 
and added, — “ and he never takes it away.” 

“Thus it is, my father,” said the young girl, “that he who 
retains the one may easily console himself for the loss of the 
other.” 

This sentiment stirred the father to the depths of his being, 
and revived his courage. He responded in ringing tones, — 

“ You are right, my daughter, but you do not know that the 
disgrace which the world may look upon as unjust is some- 
times accepted as deserved by one’s inner conscience. Our 
miserable nature is such that, when we are once involved in 
misfortune, a thousand reproaches that lay dormant in pros- 
perity are aroused within us, to rehearse our misdeeds and 
our errors.” 

“Do not talk in that way, my illustrious father,” said 
Ethel, deeply touched ; for, in the changed voice in which the 
old man spoke, she realized that he had allowed the secret of 
one of his sorrows to escape him. She lifted her eyes to his, 
and kissing his cold and wrinkled hand, she added softly, — 

“ You are very severe in your judgment of two noble men, 
my venerated father, — Lord Ordener and yourself.” 

“You jump to conclusions, Ethel; you do not know what a 
serious thing life is.” 

“But have I done wrong, my lord, in speaking justly of 
Ordener’s generosity ? ” 

“ I cannot approve, my daughter,” said Schumacker, with a 
discontented frown, “ of your action in admiring an unknown 
person whom you will probably never see again.” 

“Oh,” said the young girl, upon whom these cold words 
fell like ice, “ do not say that ; we shall see him again. Is it 
not in your behalf that he is gone to meet great dangers ? ” 

“I, like you, was much taken at first with his promises, 
I confess ; but no, he will not go, and so he will not come back 
to us.” 

“ He will go, my lord, — he will go ! ” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


217 


It was almost a wounded tone in which the young girl 
uttered these words. She felt as if she had been insulted 
through the casting of such a doubt upon Ordener. Alas, 
she was too sure in her own soul of what she affirmed ! 

“ Well,” the prisoner went on, with no evidence of emotion, 
“ if he goes and fights that brigand, and braves the danger of 
such an encounter, the ending will be the same, he will not 
come back.” 

Poor Ethel ! How often a word let fall in thoughtlessness 
brings torture to the unhealed wound in an anxious and lacer- 
ated heart ! She bowed her pale face, to hide from her 
father’s frigid glance the two tears that, in spite of her efforts 
at self-restraint, dropped from her overflowing lids. 

“ Oh, my father,” she * murmured, “ perhaps at the very 
moment when you say those words, the noble-hearted Ordener 
is dying for you ! ” 

“ I neither believe in nor desire such a thing,” said the old 
man, shaking his head doubtfully ; “ and, even if it ’twere so, 
where would be my crime ? I should simply have shown to 
that young man the ingratitude that so many others have 
manifested toward me.” 

A deep sigh was Ethel’s only response ; and Schumacker, 
leaning over his desk, began to finger in an abstracted way 
the leaves of a copy of Plutarch’s Lives of Celebrated Men , 
which was already mutilated in twenty different places, and 
crowded with annotations. A moment later a door was 
opened ; and Schumacker, without turning around, exclaimed, 
according to his custom, — 

“ Let no one come in ! Leave me, I wish none to enter 
here.” 

“ It is his excellency the governor,” an usher responded. 

An old man, in the full uniform of a general, wearing tire 
collars of the Elephant, Dannebrog, and the Golden Fleece 
about his neck, advanced toward Schumacker, who made as 
if to rise, muttering to himself, “ The governor ! The gover- 
nor ! ” The general saluted Ethel respectfully, as she stood 


218 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


near her father, looking at him with a shy and anxious 
expression. 

Perhaps, before going any farther, it would not be unprofit- 
able to review briefly the motives that actuated General Levin 
in visiting Munckholm. The reader has not forgotten the 
disagreeable news which annoyed the old governor in Chapter 
XX. of this ingenuous chronicle. On that occasion, the neces- 
sity of interrogating Schumacker was the first thing to present 
itself to the general, but he did not decide upon taking that 
step without extreme reluctance. The idea of tormenting 
an unfortunate prisoner, who had already undergone so many 
afflictions, and whom he had known in the height of his 
power, — the idea of scrutinizing severely the secrets of an un- 
fortunate man, even if he were guilty, — was displeasing to one 
of his upright and generous mind. Fidelity to the king, how- 
ever, demanded that the thing should be done ; and he could 
not leave Drontheim without taking with him such new infor- 
mation as the interview might afford concerning the identity 
of the author of the miners’ insurrection. 

It was therefore on the evening preceding his departure, 
after a long and confidential interview with the Countess of 
Ahlefeld, that the governor made up his mind to see the 
prisoner. On his way to the castle, the thought of what the 
interests of the state demanded, and of the advantage which 
his numerous personal enemies might derive from what they 
would call his negligence, and perhaps also the astute words 
of the grand chancellor’s wife, had fermented in his brain and 
confirmed his determination. He therefore ascended to the 
Lion of Schleswig donjon in a severely judicial mood. He 
promised himself that his bearing toward Schumacker, the 
conspirator, should not at all be influenced by the fact that he 
had once known Chancellor Griffenfeld ; he would put aside 
his memories of the past, and even his natural disposition, and 
deal with his former colleague in favor and power in a strictly 
inflexible way. Scarcely, however, had he entered the ex- 
chancellor’s apartments, when he was struck with the old 


BANS OF ICELAND. 


219 


man’s venerable and morose countenance, while he was further 
touched by the gentle though proud attitude of Ethel ; and so 
the first sight of the two prisoners served at the beginning to 
mitigate one-half of his severity. He went up to the ban- 
ished official, and involuntarily put out his hand, and said, 
without perceiving that the other made no response to his 
courtesy, — 

" I’m glad to see you, Count Griffen ” — he had spoken on 
the impulse of the moment, but he quickly recovered himself. 
" My lord Schumacker ! ” Then he paused, quite satisfied by 
his effort at severity, as if he had nothing more to say. 

An interval of silence followed. The general was trying to 
think of words severe enough to harmonize with the severity 
of his preliminary address. 

"Well,” said Schumacker finally, "are you the governor of 
Drontheimhus ? ” 

The general, somewhat surprised ^t being questioned by 
the person whom he had come to interrogate, nodded his 
head. 

"In that case,” the prisoner went on, " I have a complaint 
to make to you.” 

" A complaint ? What is it ? What is it ? ” inquired 
Levin, with an expression of interest. 

"An order from the viceroy directs that I shall be left 
at liberty and undisturbed in this donjon,” Schumacker 
responded in an irritated way. 

" I am aware of that order.” 

" And yet, my lord governor, people are permitted to come 
into my prison and annoy me.” 

" Who are they ? ” the general exclaimed ; " tell me the 
name of any one that dares” — 

" Yourself, my lord governor.” 

These words, uttered in a haughty tone, wounded the gen- 
eral, and he responded almost ironically, — 

" You forget that my power has no limits when it is a ques- 
tion of service to the king.” 


220 


BANS OF ICELAND. 


“ Except/’ said Schumacker, “ those imposed by the respect 
due to misfortune ; but men know nothing of that.” 

The ex-grand chancellor said this as if speaking to himself, 
but he was overheard by the governor. 

“Of course, of course! I was wrong, Count Griff — my 
lord Schumacker, I should say. I ought not to find fault 
with your anger, since the responsibility is mine.” 

“My lord governor,” Schumacker said pensively, after a 
moment’s pause, “there is in your face and voice something 
that reminds me of a man I once knew. That was a long time 
ago. I am the only one that remembers that time. It was the 
time of my prosperity. There was a certain Levin de Knud, 
of Mecklemburg. Did you ever know that crazy fellow ? ” 

“I knew him,” replied the general imperturbably. 

“Ah, you remember him. I thought that remembrance 
was something reserved for men in adversity.” 

“Was he not a captain in the royal militia? ” the governor 
went on. 

“ Yes, only a captain ; although the king thought very 
highty of him. But he was a devotee of pleasure, and never 
manifested any ambition. He was full of all sorts of extrav- 
agant ideas. Can you imagine a favorite with such moderate 
aspirations ? ” 

“ It is possible to imagine such a one.” 

“ I was very much taken with Levin de Knud, because he 
never gave me any trouble. His friendship with the king 
was between man and man. You would almost say that it 
was a matter of sentiment with him, and not a means for 
advancing his own fortunes.” 

The general sought to interrupt Schumacker; but the latter 
went on obstinately, actuated either by a spirit of contradic- 
tion, or by the pleasurable emotions awakened in his memory. 

“ Since you knew Captain Levin, my lord governor, you 
also were probably aware that he had a son, who died very 
young; but do you remember what took place at that son’s 
birth ? ” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


221 


“ I remember much more clearly what took place at his 
death,’’ said the general, putting his hand over his eyes, and 
speaking indistinctly. 

“Well,” Schumacker responded indifferently, “it was an 
incident known to but very few persons, and will show you 
admirably what a queer fellow Levin was. The king wanted 
to be in attendance at the baptism ; will you believe me, when 
I say that Levin refused ? He did more ; he selected as the 
child’s godfather an old beggar, loitering about the palace 
gates. I never could understand the motive for such a crazy 
notion.” 

“ I will tell you,” the general replied. “ In selecting a 
guardian for his son’s spiritual needs, Captain Levin undoubt- 
edly thought that a poor man would have more influence with 
God than a king.” 

“ You are right,” said Schumacker, after a moment’s reflec- 
tion. 

The governor tried to turn the conversation to the object 
of his visit, but Schumacker checked him. 

“ If it be true that Levin of Mecklemburg is not unknown 
to you, be kind enough to let me speak further of him. Of 
all the men that I had anything to do with in the days of my 
greatness, he is the only one of whom the recollection is at- 
tended neither with disgust nor horror. If he carried oddity 
to the verge of madness, he was, nevertheless, by the nobility 
of his nature, a man who stood almost alone.” 

“ I don’t think so. Levin was not very different from other 
men. There are a great many much better than he.” 

Schumacker folded his arms, and lifted his eyes to the ceiling. 

“ Yes ; thus it is always. One can never praise a man 
worthy of praise, without finding that some one is ready to 
blacken his character. The pleasure of awarding praise when 
it is due is poisoned by such behavior. It is true, however, 
that the pleasure of praising justly is very rare.” 

“ If you knew me, you would not accuse me of trying to de- 
preciate the gen — I would say Captain Levin.” 


222 


HANS OF ICELAND 


“Well, well,” said the prisoner, “there were never two 
men like Levin de Knud for loyalty and generosity, and to 
assert the contrary is to calumniate him, and to exalt beyond 
all reason the execrable qualities of the human race.” 

“ I assure you,” responded the governor, seeking to assuage 
Schumacker’s indignation, “ that I never had any intention of 
vilifying Levin de Knud.” 

“ Say not so ; he was crazy-headed, to be sure, but other 
men are very far from resembling him. They are false, un- 
grateful, envious, full of slander. Are you aware that Levin 
de Knud gave more than half his income to the Copenhagen 
hospitals ? ” 

“ I was not aware that you had any information on that 
subject.” 

“ There it is ! ” the old man exclaimed, with an air of 
triumph. “ He thought that he could say what he liked, with 
perfect security, in the confidence that I knew nothing of poor 
Levin’s good deeds ! ” 

“ Ah, no, no ! ” 

“ Do you think that I also do not know that when the king 
wanted to assign him to the command of a certain regiment, 
Levin requested that it be given to an officer who had 
wounded him in a duel, because he said the other was his 
senior in rank ? ” 

“ I had an idea that nothing was known concerning his 
action on that occasion.” 

“ And yet, my lord governor of Drontheimhus, was it any 
the less praiseworthy on that account ? Because Levin chose 
to conceal his virtues, is that any reason for denying that he 
possessed them ? Oh, these men are always the same, and 
you dare to put them on the same plane with the noble Levin ; 
why, he tried to save the life of a soldier convicted of attempt- 
ing to assassinate him, and when he failed, he gave a pension 
to the widow of his would-be murderer ! ” 

“ Well, who would have done any less ? ” 

“ Who ? ” Schumacker burst forth. “ Why you, I, any man, 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


223 


my lord governor ! Because you wear a general’s resplendent 
uniform, and medals of honor on your breast, do you believe 
that you deserve them ? You are a general, and poor Levin 
died a captain. Well, he was a crazy fellow, and never worked 
for promotion.” 

“ If he did not seek promotion himself, the king, neverthe- 
less, gave it to him out of kindness.” 

“ Kindness ? You mean justice, if indeed one may speak 
of justice as a kingly attribute. Well, what exceptional rec- 
ompense was given him ? ” 

“ His majesty has rewarded Levin de Knud much beyond 
his deserts.” 

“ Why, this is wonderful ! ” the old chancellor exclaimed, 
striking his hands together. “A loyal captain, after thirty 
years of service, is perhaps given his majority ; and this great 
favor you are offended at, my noble general ? A Persian 
proverb is right when it says that the setting sun is jealous 
of the rising moon.” 

Schumacker was so much wrought up that the general could 
hardly make himself heard. 

“You keep interrupting me, so that I have no chance to 
explain.” 

“ Ko, no,” the other went on ; “ I thought, when I first saw 
you, my lord general, that I detected a certain resemblance 
between you and young Levin, — but there, it was all fancy.” 

“ But listen to me.” 

“ Listen to you ? That you may inform me that Levin de 
Knud was unworthy of the wretched favors that were shown 
him ? ” 

“ I swear to you that such was not ” - — 

“ I see what you were after. You are like all the others; 
and you were getting around to the point where you could 
assure me that he, like all the rest of you, was a scoundrel, a 
hypocrite, and a villain.” 

“You are quite wrong.” 

“ Who can say ? Perhaps he ^betrayed a friend, or per- 


224 


HAN 8 OF ICELAND . 


secuted a benefactor, or poisoned his father, or killed his 
mother, like the rest of you ? ” 

“ You are very much at fault. I am far from desiring ” — 
“ Do you know that it was he who persuaded Vice-Chancel- 
lor Wind, and Scheel and Vinding and Justice Lasson, three 
of my judges, not to join in the decree that sentenced me to 
death ? And yet you think that I will listen unmoved when 
he is calumniated ! Yes ; that is the way he behaved toward 
me, in spite of the fact that I always showed him more of 
harshness than of favor, for I am like you, vile and wicked/’ 
As this extraordinary interview went on, Levin was touched 
by unusual emotions. Made the target of the most undisguised 
insults and the sincerest praise, he knew not how to bear him- 
self in the face of such outspoken compliments or flattering 
discourtesy. He was wounded, and yet gratified. At one 
moment he was boiling over with anger, and at another he 
wanted to overwhelm Schumacker with thanks. Standing 
there unrecognized, he loved to hear the rough-tongued old 
chancellor defend the reputation of an absent friend, but he 
would have been better pleased if the advocate had put a 
little less gall and vinegar into his panegyric. And yet, at 
the bottom of his heart, the unrestrained eulogy showered 
upon Captain Levin gratified him more profoundly than he was 
wounded by the insults addressed to the governor of Dron- 
theim. He looked benevolently at the dishonored favorite, 
and let him give full vent to his indignation and his gratitude. 
At last the old man, after a long declamation against human 
thanklessness, fell exhausted into his armchair and into the 
arms of the trembling Ethel, saying, in melancholy accents, — 
“ Oh, ye men ! what did I ever do to you that you should 
make yourselves known to me ?” 

The general had not yet come to the important subject that 
had led to his descent upon Munckholm. The reluctance 
that he had felt about tormenting the prisoner with questions 
was renewed within him, and his pity and sympathy were 
re-enforced by two other significant considerations, — the ex- 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


225 


treme agitation which Schumacher had manifested left little 
hope that he would respond in a satisfactory way ; and more- 
over, in looking at the affair without prejudice, Levin felt 
confident that such a man could not be a conspirator. Never- 
theless, how could he leave Drontheim without interrogating 
Schumacker ? The painful responsibilities of his official po- 
sition once more overcame his hesitation ; and softening his 
voice to the gentlest possible accent, he thus began, — 

“ I beg of you, calm yourself, Count Schumacker.” 

The honorable governor had the idea that, by adopting such 
a mode of address, he could gratify the respect that was due 
to the sentence of degradation with the regard that should be 
shown for greatness in misfortune, and so he joined the title 
of nobility with the other’s family name. He went on, — 

“ It is a painful duty imposed upon me, in accordance with 
which I have come ” — 

“ In the first place,” the prisoner interrupted, “ permit me, 
my lord governor, to speak again of a subject which interests 
me much more than anything your excellency can have to say 
to me. You assured me a moment ago that the crazy Levin 
had been rewarded for his services. I would like very much 
to know in what way.” 

u His majesty*, my lord Griffenfeld, raised Levin to the 
rank of general, and for more than twenty years the madman 
has pursued a peaceful career, enjoying the honors of his 
military dignity and the benevolence of his king.” 

“ Yes, the mad Levin, who was contented to stay a captain, 
will die a general; and the wise Schumacker, who expected 
to die a grand-chancellor, passes his old age as a prisoner of 
state.” 

As he said this, the old man covered his face in his hands, 
sighing deeply. Ethel, who had no idea of the import of the 
interview, but who saw that it was increasing her father’s 
melancholy, sought at this point to turn his attention. 

“ Father, do you see, up there at the north, a light which 
has neyer appeared there before ? ” 


226 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


Darkness had fallen; and a feeble, distant light could be 
seen upon the horizon, apparently upon the summit of some 
far-off mountain. But Schumacker was not constantly turn- 
ing his thoughts and eyes to the northward, as Ethel was, so 
he made no response. The general was impressed by what 
the young girl said. 

“ Perhaps,” he thought to himself, “ it is a fire lighted by 
the rebels ; ” and this suggestion recalling him forcibly to the 
object of his visit, he once more addressed the prisoner : “ My 
lord Griffenfeld, I am sorry to disturb you, but it is neces- 
sary that you should submit ” — 

“I understand you, my lord governor. It is not enough 
that I pass my days in this donjon, submit to vilifications 
and exile, and find myself deprived of everything but bitter 
remembrances of greatness and power. It is also necessary 
that you should come and violate my solitude by spying upon 
my grief, and making sport at my misfortunes. Since the 
noble Levin de Knud, of whom I have been reminded by 
certain things in your personal appearance, is a general, like 
you, it would have been very fortunate for me if he had been 
given the position that you occupy ; for he, I can assure you, 
my lord governor, would never have sought out a poor wretch 
in a prison to torment him.” 

During the course of this extraordinary interview, the gen- 
eral had more than once been on the point of making himself 
known, to bring it to an end; but Schumacker’s indirect re- 
proach made such a course impossible. It accorded so well 
with his own inner feelings that it inspired him with a sense 
of shame. He endeavored, nevertheless, to make some re- 
sponse to Schumacker’s formidable accusation. It was a 
strange thing, but the difference in the characters of these 
two men had brought about in each a distinct change of atti- 
tude. The judge, after a certain fashion, was obliged to 
justify himself before the accused. 

“ But,” said the general, “ if his duty had demanded, there 
can be no doubt that Levin de Knud ” — 


UANS OF ICELAND. 


227 


“ Yet I doubt it, noble governor ! ” Schumacker exclaimed. 
“ Do you not yourself doubt that he would have refused, with 
all the generous indignation of his soul, to take the part of a 
spy, and increase the sufferings of an unhappy prisoner ? I 
tell you, I know him better than you, and in no case would he 
have assumed the duties of an executioner. Now, my lord 
general, I will listen to you. Do what you call your duty. 
What does your excellency wish of me ? ” 

And the old chancellor fixed a proud glance upon the gov- 
ernor, whose resolution now failed him. His first reluctance 
was revived and became invincible. 

“ He is right,” he said to himself ; “ I cannot persecute an 
unfortunate man simply on suspicion. They may assign this 
task to somebody else ! ” 

The result of these reflections speedily manifested itself ; 
he went up to the astonished Schumacker, and took him by 
the hand, then made a hurried departure, saying, — 

u Count Schumacker, always keep the same high opinion of 
Levin de Knud.” 


228 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


CHAPTER XXV. 


Lion. Oh — 

[The Lion roars. Thisbe runs off.] 

Demetrius . 1 Well roared, lion! 

Shakespeare: Midsummer Night’s Dream. 

The traveller who in these days makes his way among the 
snowclad mountains that surround Lake Smiasen like a white 
cincture will find no vestige of what the seventeenth century 
Norwegians called Arbar ruins. No one has ever been able to 
learn the origin or the manner of building of those ruins, if 
one may really give them that name. Coming out of the 
forest which skirts the southern part of the lake, after as- 
cending a slope marked here and there with the remains of 
walls and towers, one comes to an arched opening, piercing 
the side of a mountain. This opening, which to-day is wholly 
obstructed by landslides, gave entrance to a sort of gallery, 
cut in the rock and traversing the mountain from side to side. 
The gallery was feebly lighted by conical openings made in 
the roof at intervals, and ended in a sort of oblong, oval- 
shaped hall, partly excavated in the rock, and finished off with 
a stretch of Cyclopean masonry. Around the hall, in deep 
niches, roughly carved figures in granite were stationed. 
Some of these mysterious images had fallen from their pedes- 
tals, and lay at random on the stone pavements, with other 
shapeless incumbrances, shrouded in grass and moss, and 
haunted by lizards, spiders, and all the hideous insects which 
are born of the earth and ruins. 

Daylight penetrated into the place only through a door 
opposite the mouth of the gallery. The doorway, seen from a 
1 Theseus, in Hugo’s version. 


1TANS OF ICELAND. 


229 


certain direction, was ogive in form, but roughly made, in 
accordance with no particular period, and had evidently been 
merely a chance thought on the part of the builders. The 
doorway came down to the floor; but it might have been 
called a window, for it gave upon a deep precipice, and one 
could not understand the object of the three or four steps 
that were cut on the face of the cliff outside, and just below 
this extraordinary opening. 

This hall was the interior of a sort of gigantic turret, 
which, when seen on the side of the precipice and from a 
distance, looked like one of the peaks of the mountain. The 
turret was isolated ; and, as has been said already, no one knew 
to what edifice it had belonged. Above it, on a plateau inac- 
cessible to the most zealous hunter, was an elevation which 
might be taken, on account of the impossibility of examining 
it closely, either for a rounded mass of rock, or for the re- 
mains of a colossal archway. The turret and the crumbling 
archway were known to the peasants as the Arbar ruins. 
The origin of the name was just as inscrutable as the origin 
of the monument itself. 

On a stone in the middle of the elliptical chamber sat a 
little man, clad in the skins of wild animals, whom we have 
had occasion to meet with several times in the course of this 
story. He had turned his back toward the light, or rather 
toward the vague illumination which made its way into the tur- 
ret when the sun was in the zenith. The light was the strong- 
est that could ever by natural means gain access to the turret 
interior, but it was not enough to allow one to distinguish the 
identity of the object over which the little man was stooping. 
A faint, groaning sound could be heard ; and it seemed to come 
from the object in question, and to be accompanied from 
time to time by weak convulsive movements. Sometimes 
the little man sat up and carried to his lips a sort of cup, 
shaped something like a human skull, and full of a steaming 
liquor, the color of which was not discernible ; and of this he 
drank long and deeply. All at once he rose to his feet. 


230 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ It seems to me that some one is walking along the gal- 
lery. Is it the chancellor of the two kingdoms already ? ” 

The words were followed by an outburst of horrible laugh- 
ter, winding up with a savage bellow, to which a howling 
from the gallery speedily made answer. 

“ Oho/’ the occupant of the Arbar ruins commented, “ it is 
not a man, but some other enemy, — it’s a wolf.” 

In fact, a big wolf came suddenly into the arched entrance 
to the gallery, paused for a moment, and then crawled side- 
wise toward the man, with his belly to the ground, and glar- 
ing at him with eyes that shone like coals in the darkness. 
The man stood still, with folded arms, and looked at the ani- 
mal. 

“ Ah, it’s the old gray wolf, — the oldest wolf in the Smi- 
asen forests. How do you do, Mr. Wolf ? Your eyes glare, 
you are hungry, and the odor of corpses attracts you. Per- 
haps other hungry wolves will soon be attracted by you. 
Welcome, old wolf of Smiasen; I have always had a great 
desire to meet you. You are so old, that they say you cannot 
die. They will not say so to-morrow.” 

The animal replied with a terrific howl, made a leap in the 
air, and landed upon the little man. The latter did not recoil 
a single step. With the rapidity of lightning, he put his 
right arm around the wolf’s body, as the animal stood in 
front of him with its two forepaws on his shoulders; with 
the left hand he guarded his face from the gaping jaws of his 
enemy, by seizing the beast at the throat with such violence 
that it was obliged to lift its head, and could scarcely articu- 
late a cry of suffering. 

“ Smiasen wolf,” said the man triumphantly, “you are 
tearing my cloak, but your skin can replace it.” 

With this declaration of victory he intermingled several 
words in a strange jargon, and a convulsive movement on the 
part of the agonized wolf threw him against some of the 
stones that were scattered over the floor. They fell together, 
and the man’s roaring rivalled the animal’s howls. Forced 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


231 


by his fall to let go of the wolf’s neck, the little man already 
felt the sharp teeth sinking into his shoulder, when, as they 
rolled over one another, the two combatants struck against a 
large, white, hairy object, which was lying in the darkest part 
of the hall. It was a bear, which awoke from its heavy sleep 
and began growling. 

No sooner had the dull eyes of this creature opened suffi- 
ciently to perceive the conditions of the struggle, than he 
sprang furiously, not upon the man, but upon the wolf, which 
at that moment was uppermost, seized it violently with his 
jaws by the middle of the body, and so released the little 
man. The latter did not seem to be at all thankful for the 
well-meant interference, but got up all covered with blood, 
and springing toward the bear gave it a vigorous kick in the 
belly, as the owner of a dog might do when he wished to cor- 
rect a fault. 

“ Friend, who called on you ? What have you to do with 
this affair ? ” The words were intermingled with furious 
exclamations and gnashing of teeth. “ Clear out ! ” he added, 
with a roar. 

The bear, having got a kick from the man and a bite from 
the wolf, uttered a sort of plaintive moaning, and then, hang- 
ing his heavy head, released the famished wolf, which sprang 
upon the man with all its former ferocity. While the strug- 
gle continued, the repulsed bear went back to his sleeping- 
place, sat solemnly down, and looked indifferently at the two 
furious combatants, making no sound, and rubbing one of his 
forepaws after the other across the end of his white nose. 

When the dean of the Smiasen wolves returned to the 
charge, the little man seized the beast’s bloody muzzle, and by 
an unprecedented exhibition of strength and adroitness suc- 
ceeded in getting a firm grip of the jaws with his hand. The 
wolf struggled violently with rage and pain; bloody froth 
fell from his compressed lips; and his eyes, swelling with 
anger, seemed to be starting from their sockets. Of the two 
adversaries, it was the wild beast whose bones were scraped 


232 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


by sharp teeth, and whose flesh was torn by pitiless claws, 
and it was the man whose howlings were the most savage and 
the most terrifying. 

Finally the latter, summoning up all the strength that had 
not been exhausted by the old wolfs prolonged resistance, 
grasped the animal’s jaws with his two hands with such 
vigor that blood gushed from both mouth and nostrils ; the 
flaming eyes grew dull and partly closed ; the beast trembled, 
and fell powerless at the feet of the victor, the feeble and 
continuous moving of the tail, and the convulsive and inter- 
mittent trembling that ran over the body, alone showing that 
the brute was not yet wholly dead. All at once a final con- 
vulsion shook the expiring animal, and all signs of life dis- 
appeared. 

“ Well, you’re done for now, my fine beast ! ” said the little 
man, with a scornful kick ; “ did you expect to be any older 
after meeting with me ? You are done now with stealthy 
prowling across the snow in pursuit of prey, for you are your- 
self good feed for wolves and vultures. Many frightened 
travellers have you devoured around Smiasen, during your 
long life of murder and carnage; now you’re dead yourself, 
and you will eat no more men, — a fact greatly to be re- 
gretted.” 

He picked up a sharp stone, stooped over the warm, palpi- 
tating body, broke the joints of the legs, separated the head 
from the carcass, slit the skin along the whole length of the 
carcass, stripped it off as if it had been a coat, and in the 
twinkling of an eye the formidable Smiasen wolf was nothing 
but a naked and bleeding mass of flesh. The little man then 
threw his spoils over his own gashed and bleeding shoulders, 
turning outward the fleshy side of the damp skin, which was 
marked with long stains of blood. 

“I have to wear the skins of wild beasts,” he grumbled to 
himself ; “ human skin is too thin to keep out the cold.” 

As he thus spoke, his native hideousness made still more 
hideous by his trophy, the bear, becoming weary of inaction, 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


233 


had cautiously approached the*other object, which was spoken 
of at the beginning of this chapter, and which now lay partly 
concealed in the shadow. Soon a gnawing sound came from 
that darkened portion of the apartment, and with it faint 
and painful cries of agony. The little man turned around. 

“ Friend ! ” he exclaimed in a threatening tone ; “ oh, you 
miserable Friend ! Here, come here ! ” 

And picking up a large stone, he threw it at the monster’s 
head. The bear was stunned by the blow, and slowly with- 
drew from his banquet. Licking his red lips, he came and 
threw himself down panting at the little man’s feet, lifting 
his enormous muzzle and curving his neck, as if to ask pardon 
for his indiscretion. Then the two monsters — for the term 
may very well apply to the inhabitants of Arbar ruins — ex- 
changed a significant series of growls. The man’s utterances 
expressed authority and anger ; the bear’s, supplication and 
submission. 

“ Look here,” said the little man, pointing with his crooked 
finger to the stripped body of the wolf ; “ here’s your prey. 
Let mine alone.” 

The bear smelt of the wolf’s body, shook his head in a dis- 
contented way, and turned his eyes toward the man, who was 
so evidently his master. 

“ I understand,” said the latter ; “ that is already too dead 
for you, while the other still breathes. Your tastes are very 
fastidious, Friend ; as much so as a man’s. You want your 
food to be alive when you take hold of it ; you like to feel the 
flesh die under your teeth, and you get no pleasure from it 
unless it is suffering. I sympathize with you, Friend ; for I 
am not a man. I am above the level of that miserable spawn ; 
I am a wild beast, like you. I wish that you could speak, 
my good Friend, that you might tell me if the joy that runs 
through your entrails when you devour a man is equal to 
mine. But no ; I don’t want to hear you speak for fear your 
voice would seem too human. Yes ; growl on at my feet, 
with the growl that makes the frightened shepherd tremble in 


234 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


the mountains ; to me it is like the utterance of a friend, be- 
cause it proclaims the approach of an enemy. Lift up your 
head, Friend, lift it up to me, and lick my hands with the 
tongue that has so often dipped in human blood. Like me 
you have white teeth, and it is not your fault that they are 
not as red as a newly made wound; but blood washes out 
blood. More than once from some dark cavern I have seen 
the Kole or Oëlmœ girls washing their naked feet in the 
mountain torrents, and singing softly ; but I would rather 
have your shaggy jaws and husky growlings than their melo- 
dious voices and satiny bodies, because you carry terror to the 
heart of man.” 

Speaking thus he sat down, and gave his hand to the caress- 
ing monster, who rolled upon his back, at his feet, and fawned 
upon him in a thousand ways, like a spaniel displaying his 
manifold graces upon the sofa of his mistress. The stran- 
gest thing about the whole affair was the intelligent attention 
which he seemed to give to his master’s words. The peculiar 
monosyllables with which the little man interlarded his 
speech seemed to be quite intelligible to the animal ; and he 
manifested his comprehension by suddenly lifting his head, or 
giving vent to guttural sounds deep down in his throat. 

“ Men say I fly from them,” the little man went on ; “ but 
? tis they who fly from me ; they do from fear what I do from 
hatred ; and yet you know, Friend, that I am always glad to 
meet with a man when I am hungry or thirsty.” 

All at once, far back in the gallery, he saw a reddish light 
appear and gradually grow larger as it feebly illuminated the 
old wet walls. 

“ Here comes one now. You speak of hell, and Satan shows 
his horns. Here, Friend,” he added, turning toward the 
bear ; “ here, get up ! ” The animal sprang to his feet. “ ’Tis 
well; since you obey quickly, you shall be well fed.” 

So speaking, he bent down over the object that lay upon 
the ground. There was a noise of splintering bones under a 
hatchet, but it was no longer accompanied by sighs and groans. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


235 


“ It seems,” the little man murmured, “ that only two of us 
can live in Arbar hall. There, good Triend ; go on with your 
interrupted banquet. ” 

He cast the fragment that he had detached from the object 
stretched at his feet toward the outer doorway of which we 
have* spoken. The bear sprang upon his prey so ferociously 
that the sharpest eye would not have been able to determine 
whether or not the dainty tidbit bore any resemblance to a 
human arm, clothed in a piece of green cloth of the exact shade 
of the uniform worn by the Munckholm arquebusiers. 

“ Some one approaches,” said the little man, his eye fixed 
on the light which continued to increase. “ My good Friend, 
leave me alone a minute. Here, get outside ! ” 

The obedient monster sprang towards the door, went back- 
ward down the outside steps, and disappeared with a growl of 
satisfaction, bearing his disgusting prey in his jaws. At the 
same moment a tall man emerged from the gallery whose tor- 
tuous depths still reflected a feeble light. He wore a long 
brown cloak, and carried a dark lantern, the rays of which 
he directed into the little man’s face. The little man, still 
seated upon a stone and with folded arms, called out, — 

" You are unwelcome, whether you come here by intention 
or by chance ! 99 

But the stranger, without making any reply, looked at the 
speaker attentively. 

“ Stare all you like,” the little man went on, lifting his 
head ; “ perhaps in an hour or so you will have, no voice to 
boast of having seen me.” 

The newcomer directed the light so that it showed the 
whole of the little man’s person, and seemed to be more sur- 
prised than alarmed. 

“ Well, what are you marvelling at ? ” the little man re- 
sumed, with a laugh like the noise of a breaking skull ; “ I 
have arms and legs, like you ; but my limbs will not, like 
yours, be food for crows and lynxes.” 

The stranger at length replied in a low tone, as if he feared 
nothing except being overheard from outside. 


236 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ Listen, I come to you, not as an enemy, but as a friend.” 

n Why, then,” the other interrupted, “ did you not cast off 
your human shape ? ” 

“ My intention is to render you a service, if you are the one 
I am looking for.” 

“ That is to say, you want to get some favor from me. 
Man, you waste your breath. I render service only to those 
who are tired of life.” 

“ By your words,” the stranger responded, “ I recognize you 
clearly as the man I want, but your stature, — Hans of Ice- 
land is a giant ; you cannot be he.” 

“ This is the first time any one has denied it to my face.” 

“ What ! Can it be you ? ” and the stranger drew nearer 
to the little man. “ But I have been told that Hans of Ice- 
land is a colossus ! ” 

“Add my renown to my stature, and I am taller than 
Hecla.” 

“ Beally ! Tell me, I beg of you, are you indeed Hans, a 
native of Klipstadur in Iceland ? ” 

“ I don’t reply to that question in words,” said the little 
man, getting up ; and the glance he shot at the imprudent 
stranger caused the latter to fall back two or three steps. 

“ Bestrict yourself, I beg of you, to replying with a look,” 
the newcomer said, in a tone of entreaty, casting a glance at 
the doorway to the gallery, in evident regret that he had ever 
passed through. “ It is in your interests alone that I have 
come here.” 

On entering the hall the newcomer had not been able to see 
clearly the one he was approaching, and so he had been able 
to manifest a certain degree of composure ; but when the occu- 
pant of Arbar arose, with his tiger face, his knotted arms, his 
bloody shoulders, half clad in the steaming wolf-skin, his 
great hands and nails, and his flaming eyes, the adventurous 
stranger shuddered, like an ignorant traveller who thinks he is 
about to take up an eel and is bitten by a viper. 

“ In my interest ? ” the monster inquired. “ Do you come, 


MANS OF ICELAND . 


287 


then, to tell me of some spring to be poisoned, some village to 
burn, or some Munckholm arquebusier to throttle ? ” 

“ Perhaps. Listen. The Norwegian miners are in revolt. 
You know what disasters follow a revolt.” 

“ Yes ; murder, rape, sacrilege, burning, pillage.” 

“ All that I offer you.” 

“ There is no need for you to offer them me,” the little 
man said with a laugh; “I go and take them.” The fero- 
cious chuckle that accompanied these words once more made 
the stranger tremble. He went on, nevertheless, — 

“ I propose in the name of the miners that you take com- 
mand of the insurrection.” 

The little man was silent for a moment, then his features 
suddenly took on an expression of diabolical malice. 

“ Is it really in their name that you make me this proposi- 
tion ? ” 

The question seemed to disconcert the newcomer ; but in the 
confidence that he was unknown to his formidable questioner, 
he quickly recovered his self-assurance. 

“ Why did the miners revolt ? ” the other inquired. 

“ To escape from the requirements of royal guardianship.” 

“ Only for that ? ” the other asked in a jocular tone. 

“They wish also to deliver the prisoner from Munckholm.” 

“ Is that the sole object of the rising ? ” repeated the little 
man with an accent which the stranger found disconcerting. 

“ I do not know of any other,” the latter stammered. 

“ Ah, you do not know of any other ! ” 

These words were uttered in the same ironical tone. The 
stranger, in order to overcome the embarrassment which they 
caused him, hastened to draw a large purse from under his 
cloak, and to throw it at the monster’s feet. 

“ Here is your pay for taking command.” 

“ I do not want it,” said the little man, kicking the purse 
one side. “ Do you suppose that if I wanted your gold or 
your blood I would wait for your permission in order to sat- 
isfy myself ? ” 


238 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ That is a present that the miners asked me to give you/’ 
said the stranger, with a gesture of surprise and almost 
alarm. 

“ I do not want it, I tell you. Gold is of no use to me. 
Men are very ready to sell their souls, but they do not sell 
their lives. When one wants a human life, one is obliged to 
go and take it.” 

“ Shall I announce, then, to the leaders of the miners that 
the redoubtable Hans of Iceland will take command without 
pay ? ” 

“ I will not take command.” 

These words, brusquely spoken, seemed to produce a very 
disagreeable effect on the ostensible envoy from the rebellious 
miners. 

“ What ! ” he said. 

“ No ! ” the other responded. 

“ You refuse to take part in an expedition that offers you 
so many advantages ? ” 

“ I can pillage farms, devastate hamlets, and massacre 
peasants or soldiers, without assistance.” 

“ But remember that if you accept the miners’ offer you 
will have absolute impunity.” 

“ Is it also in the name of the miners that you promise me 
impunity ? ” the other demanded with a laugh. 

“ I will not hide from you,” the stranger responded with 
an air of mystery, “that it is in the name of an influential 
person who is interested in the insurrection.” 

“And is this influential person himself sure of not being 
hanged ? ” 

“ If you were aware of his identity, you would not shake 
your head in that way.” 

“ A h ? Well, who is he ? ” 

“ That is just what I cannot tell you.” 

The little man drew near, and let his hand fall on the 
stranger’s shoulder, still laughing sardonically. 

“ Do you wish me to tell you ? ” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


239 


The man in the cloak made a gesture expressive of alarm 
and wounded vanity. He was no more pleased by the rude 
interruption than by the monster’s savage familiarity. 

“ This is very droll,” the little man continued. “ You are 
not aware that I know everything. The influential person of 
whom you speak is the grand chancellor of Denmark and 
Norway, and the grand chancellor of Denmark and Norway 
is yourself.” 

He indeed it was. Arrived at Arbar ruins towards which 
he was travelling with Musdœmon when we left him, he had 
made up his mind to allow none but himself to assume the 
responsibility of winning over the brigand ; for he had not the 
slightest idea that he had been recognized and was expected. 
Never afterward could the Count of Ahlefeld, in spite of all 
his subtlety and resource, discover by what means Hans of 
Iceland had kept himself so well informed. Did Musdoemon 
betray him ? It was Musdoemon, of a truth, who had sug- 
gested to the noble count the idea of visiting the brigand in 
person ; but what profit could he derive from such perfidy ? 
Had the brigand captured from any of his victims document- 
ary evidence concerning the grand chancellor’s projects ? 
But Frederic Ahlefeld was the only living being, aside from 
Musdoemon, who knew anything about his father’s plan ; and 
empty-headed as he might be, he would not have been silly 
enough to divulge so important a secret ; more than that, he 
was in garrison at Munckholm, or at least the grand chan- 
cellor believed him to be there. 

Those who follow this scene to the end will be no more 
successful than the Count of Ahlefeld was in solving the 
problem, but they will see how much probability was to be 
attached to this last-named hypothesis. 

Presence of mind was one of the most prominent traits of 
the Count of Ahlefeld. When the little man called him by 
name so brusquely, he could not repress an exclamation of 
surprise ; but in the twinkling of an eye the expression of his 
pale and haughty features changed from alarm and astonish- 
ment to serenity and assurance. 


240 


HANS OF ICELAND . 


“ Well, yes/’ lie said ; “ I desire to be frank with you. I 
am indeed the chancellor, but I hope that you will also be 
frank with me.” 

“ Did I make you ask my name, and tell your own ? ” the 
little man interrupted, with an outburst of laughter. 

“ Tell me, with the same sincerity, how you knew who’I was.” 

“ Did no one ever tell you that Hans of Iceland can see 
through mountains ? ” 

“ Look upon me as a friend,” the count persisted. 

“ Your hand, Count of Ahlefeld ! ” said the little man 
sternly. Then he looked the chancellor in the face, and ex- 
claimed, “ If our two souls were to take flight from our bodies 
at this moment, I believe that Satan would hesitate before he 
could decide which of the two belonged to the monster.” 

The haughty nobleman bit his lips ; but between fear of 
the brigand on the one hand, and the need of winning his 
assistance on the other, he gave no other evidence of his 
annoyance. 

“ Do not trifle with your interests ; accept the command of 
the insurrection, and have confidence in my gratitude.” 

“ Chancellor of Norway, you count upon the success of your 
enterprise, like an old woman who dreams of the gown she is 
going to make from stolen hemp, while the cat tangles up the 
thread on her distaff.” 

“ Once more reflect before you reject my proposals.” 

“Once more I, the brigand, say to you, grand chancellor 
of the two kingdoms — no!” 

“ I expected a different reply, after the distinguished ser- 
vice that you have already rendered me.” 

“ What service ? ” the brigand inquired. 

“Was it not you who assassinated Captain Dispolsen?” 
the chancellor responded. 

“ That may be so, Count of Ahlefeld ; I was not acquainted 
with him. What sort of a man was he, of whom you speak ? ” 

“ What ! did not the iron casket which he carried fall into 
your hands ? ” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


241 


“Wait,” said the other, his recollections seeming to be 
stirred by the question ; “ I do remember a man with an iron 
casket. ’Twas on Urchtal sands.” 

u At least,” said the chancellor, “ turn that casket over to 
me, and my gratitude will know no bounds. Tell me what 
became of the casket, for you must have disposed of it in 
some way.” 

The chancellor insisted so strongly on a reply to this ques- 
tion, that Hans’s curiosity was aroused. 

“The iron box is then of very great importance to his 
grace, the chancellor of Norway ? ” 

« Yes.” 

“ What will be my reward, if I tell you where you can find 
it?” 

“ Anything that you may desire, my dear Hans of Iceland.” 

“Well, I shall not tell you.” 

“ Ah, you are trifling with me ! Think of the service you 
would be rendering me.” 

“ That is precisely what I do think of.” 

“ I will put you in possession of an immense fortune, and 
get the king to grant you a pardon.” 

“ Get him rather to give you one for yourself,” said the 
brigand. “ Listen to me, grand chancellor of Denmark and 
Norway; tigers never feed on hyenas. I am going to let you 
depart alive out of my presence because you are a wicked 
man, and every instant of your life the thoughts that are in 
your mind bring misfortune upon men and a new crime upon 
yourself. But never come to me again, or I shall teach you 
that my hatred spares no one, not even scoundrels. As for 
your captain, don’t flatter yourself that I slew him in your 
behalf. ’Twas his uniform that settled his fate, as well as 
that of this other wretch, whose throat I cut, out of no desire 
to serve you, I assure you.” 

So speaking, he seized the count’s arm, and dragged his vis- 
itor toward the body lying in the shadow. As he finished 
speaking, the light from the dark lantern fell upon the spot. 


242 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


It was a mangled carcass, clothed in the uniform of an officer 
of the Munckholm arquebusiers. The chancellor drew near, 
with a feeling of horror. All at once his attention was ar- 
rested by the pallid, blood-stained face. He could not fail to 
recognize the purple, half-opened lips, the bristling hair, the 
livid cheeks, and the sightless eyes. He uttered a cry of 
horror, — 

“ Great heavens, it is Frederic, my son ! ” 

Let no one doubt that hearts apparently the most shrunken 
and hardened have within them always, in some remote corner, 
treasures of affection of which they are themselves ignorant, 
and which seem to be concealed by their passions and their 
vices, until the day when the mysterious witness from the past 
is transformed into an avenger. One might almost say that 
such resources of affection existed merely to teach the wrong- 
doer the possibilities of suffering. Silently the hidden wit- 
ness awaits its hour. The perverse man carries it in the 
depths of his soul, and does not realize its presence, because 
no ordinary affliction is strong enough to penetrate the thick 
shell of egotism and wickedness with which it is enveloped. 
But let some exceptional and irresistible sorrow present itself 
without warning, and it plunges to the very foundations of 
being, like a sword. Then the hidden is revealed; and the 
emotion to which it gives rise is all the more violent because 
the source of it has been so long ignored, and all the more 
agonizing because the sting of misfortune has been driven so 
deep in order to reach it. Nature awakes and bursts forth 
unchained, visiting upon the wretched victim unaccustomed 
desolation and unwonted torture, bringing to a momentary 
focus the sufferings that have been evaded for so many years. 
The most contradictory emotions seize upon him simultane- 
ously. His heart, weighed down with a deadening stupor, be- 
comes a prey to convulsive pangs. He gets a taste of hell in 
this life, and is overwhelmed with an affliction deeper than 
despair. 

The Count of Ahlefeld loved his son unwittingly. We say 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


243 


his son, because he was ignorant of his wife’s faithlessness, 
and Frederic was in his eyes the direct heir to his name and 
titles. Believing that he was yet at Munckholm, the count 
was all the more astounded to find him in Arbar turret and to 
find him dead. And yet there he was, bleeding and disfig- 
ured ; it was he, without any doubt. One can imagine what 
took place in his soul, when the certainty of love confronted 
the certainty of loss. The emotions which two discoveries 
like that would naturally arouse tore his heart with pitiless 
violence. Struck down by surprise, and crushed by despair, 
he fell back, wringing his hands, and repeating in lamentable 
tones, — 

“ My son ! My son ! ” 

The brigand burst out laughing, and it is a horrible thing 
to hear laughter echoing amid the groans of a father confront- 
ing the corpse of his son. 

“ By my ancestor Ingolphus, you may call, Count of Ahle- 
feld, but you will never awaken him again.” Then his sav- 
age features darkened, and he said sombrely, “ Weep for your 
son ; I avenge mine.” 

He was interrupted by the noise of hurried footsteps in the 
gallery ; and, as he turned his head in astonishment, four tall 
men with naked swords sprang into the hall. They were 
followed by a fifth, who was short and stout, and carried a 
torch in one hand and a sword in the other ; he wore a brown 
cloak, similar to the grand chancellor’s. 

“ My lord,” he exclaimed, “ we heard you, and hastened to 
your assistance.” 

The reader has doubtless already recognized Musdoemon 
and the four men-at-arms, who composed the count’s body- 
guard. 

As the light of the torch illuminated the hall, the five new- 
comers paused in horror ; and it was, in fact, a terrifying spec- 
tacle. On one side lay the bloody remains of the wolf, on the 
other the disfigured corpse of the young officer, and between 
the two the wild-eyed, lamenting father, and the horrid bri- 


244 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


gand, who looked upon his assailants, his hideous face expres- 
sive of surprise, but not of fear. 

Seeing unexpected re-enforcements, the count was seized 
with a desire for vengeance, and his despair was turned into 
rage. 

“ Der.th to the brigand ! ” he shouted, drawing his sword. 
“ He has murdered my son ! Kill him ! Kill him ! ” 

“He has murdered Lord Frederic ? ” Musdœmon inquired, 
the light from the torch which he carried showing not the 
slightest alteration in his countenance. 

“ Kill him ! Kill him ! ” the count repeated furiously. 

The six rushed upon the brigand ; and he, surprised at this 
sudden attack, withdrew towards the door opening upon the 
precipice, with a ferocious bellow, expressive of anger rather 
than of dread. 

Six swords were pointed at him, and his look was more 
furious and his attitude was more threatening than that of 
any of his adversaries. He seized a stone axe ; and obliged 
by the number of his assailants to act upon the defensive, he 
swung it about him with such rapidity that the revolving 
weapon protected him like a shield. Sparks flew in showers 
from the sword-points as the axe struck them, but not a blade 
could touch his body. The fight with the wolf, however, had 
exhausted his strength; and he was gradually forced back, 
until he came to the door opening upon the abyss. 

“ Courage, friends,” the count exclaimed ; “ pitch the mon- 
ster over ! ” 

“ The stars will fall before that happens,” replied the 
brigand. 

The aggressors redoubled the ardor and boldness of their 
attack, when they saw the little man obliged to take refuge 
on the steps overhanging the abyss. 

“ Good,” the grand chancellor shouted ; “ give him no quar- 
ter ! He will have to go over; now, once more! Wretch, 
you have committed your last crime ! Courage, comrades ! ” 

Whirling the axe continuously with his right hand, the 


HA NS OF ICELAND . 


245 


brigand, making no response, took the horn hanging at his 
belt in his left hand, and putting it to his lips, blew several 
long, hoarse blasts, which were speedily answered by a roar 
from the depths below. 

A little later, just as the count and his attendants were 
glorying over the fact that they had obliged the little man to 
take one more step downwards, the enormous head of a white 
bear appeared from under the lowermost step. Struck with 
astonishment and terror, the assailants drew back. The bear 
climbed heavily up the steps and confronted them, with his 
sharp teeth and bloody jaws. 

“ Well done, my good Friend ! ” exclaimed the brigand ; and 
taking advantage of the astonishment of his assailants, he 
sprang upon the bear’s back ; and the animal began to descend 
backwards, with his threatening head still confronting his 
master’s enemies. 

Recovering from their momentary stupefaction, they saw 
that the bear was carrying the brigand out of their reach, 
making his way down the precipice in the same manner 
doubtless as that in which he had come up, by hanging to old 
logs and projecting rocks. They tried to roll stones down on 
him ; but they had just got a big block of granite loose from 
the soil where it had so long been half buried, when the 
brigand and his extraordinary steed disappeared in a grotto. 


246 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

No, no; let us laugh no more. You must know that what seemed to me to 
be so droll has also its serious side, — very serious, like all else in the uni- 
verse! Believe me, the word “chance” is blasphemy; nothing under 
the sun happens by chance ; and can you not see, in what has happened 
here, a distinct manifestation on the part of Providence? — Lessing: 
Emilia Gallotti. 

Yes; a deeply hidden purpose often lies in what men call 
chance. In the course of human events one can see the influ- 
ence of a mysterious hand, guiding their course and pointing 
to the goal. We storm at the caprices of fortune and the 
extraordinary decrees of fate ; and all at once chaos is illumi- 
nated with a crashing thunderbolt or a glorious radiance, and 
human wisdom humbles itself before the inspiring teachings 
of destiny. 

If, for example, when Frederic Ahlefeld was cutting such a 
brilliant figure before the women in the sumptuous salons of 
Copenhagen, with his fashionable attire, his airs of superior- 
ity, and his presumptuous chatter, — if some one who could 
foresee the future had disturbed his frivolity with serious rev- 
elations ; had told him that on some day to come the gorgeous 
uniform he was so proud of would be the badge of his destruc- 
tion ; that a monster with human face would drink his blood, 
as he, the thoughtless voluptuary, drank French and Bohemian 
wines ; that his hair, upon which he lavished so many essences 
and perfumes, would sweep up the dust in a wild beast’s lair ; 
that the arm, which he offered so gracefully to the beauties 
of Charlottenburg, would be thrown to a bear, like a half- 
gnawed roebuck bone, — what response would Frederick have 
made to such lugubrious predictions ? With an outburst of 
laughter, as he turned on his heels ; and the most terrifying 


BANS OF ICELAND. 


247 


tiling about it would be that human wisdom would have been 
altogether on the side of the madman. 

Let us examine a little more closely into this question of 
destiny. Is it not a marvellous mystery, that the crime com- 
mitted by the Count and Countess of Ahlefeld should recoil 
in punishment on their own heads ? They had devised an 
infamous plot against the prisoner’s daughter. The unfortu- 
nate girl meets by chance with a protector, who finds it desi- 
rable to send the son away, that he might not carry out the 
abominable design with which they had intrusted him. The 
son, who is their only hope, is despatched to a distance from the 
scene of his crime, and scarcely reaches his destination, when 
chance once more intervenes, in the guise of an avenger, and 
leads him to his death. Thus, in seeking to bring the young 
and innocent girl, whom they detested, to dishonor, they had 
thrust their own guilty and idolized son into the tomb. It 
was by their own misdoings that these wretched creatures 
were afflicted with so much sorrow. 


248 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

Ah, there is our beautiful countess! Pardon me, madam, if I am unable 
to-day to profit by the honor of your visit. I am very busy. Another 
time, dear countess, another time. But to-day I will detain you here no 
longer. — The Prince to Orsina. 

On the day after his visit to Munckholm, early in the 
morning, the governor of Drontheiin gave orders that his 
travelling carriage should be got in readiness, with the hope 
that he would be able to get away while the Countess of Ahle- 
feld was still asleep ; but it has already been said that the 
countess slept very lightly. 

The general had just signed the last of his suggestions to 
the bishop, in whose hands the administration was to be en- 
trusted while he was away. He had got up from his chair, 
and put on his fur coat in readiness to go out, when the usher 
announced the wife of the grand chancellor. 

The incident was disconcerting to the old soldier, who could 
be jovial enough in the face of a volley of artillery, but not 
when confronted by a scheming woman. He put a good face 
upon the matter, however, and made his farewells to the 
wicked countess, and did not allow his annoyance to show on 
his face, until she bent toward him with a knowing air, which 
she tried to make extremely confidential. 

“Well, noble general, what did he say to you ?” 

“Who? Poël ? He told me that my carriage was wait- 
ing.” 

“ I am speaking of the prisoner at Munckholm, general.” 

“ Ah ! ” 

“ Did he respond to your inquiries in a satisfactory man- 
ner ? ” 


HANS OF ICELAND . 


249 


“ Oh, yes, indeed, my lady countess,” said the governor, 
whose embarrassment was natural enough. 

“Have you proof that he is concerned in the insurrec- 
tion ? ” 

“ Noble lady, he is innocent ! 99 

The exclamation escaped Levin on the impulse of the 
moment. He stopped abruptly, for he had expressed the 
conviction of his heart and not that of his judgment. 

“ He is innocent ! ” the countess repeated, with an air of 
consternation, although she thought it might be true, for she 
trembled lest Schumacker had been able to convince the gen- 
eral of his innocence, when it was so important to the interests 
of the grand chancellor that he be thought guilty. 

The governor had time to reflect ; and he responded to the 
exclamation made by the countess in a tone which reassured 
her, because it expressed doubt and dissatisfaction. 

“ Innocent ? Yes — if you wish ” — 

“ If I wish, my lord general ! ” and the wicked woman 
burst out laughing. The governor was wounded by this show 
of merriment. 

“ Noble countess,” he said, “ you will permit me to give my 
report of my interview with the ex-grand chancellor only to 
the viceroy.” 

Then he made a low bow, and went down into the court- 
yard, where his carriage was waiting. 

“ Yes,” said the Countess of Ahlefeld, returning to her 
apartment, “depart, knight-errant, and may your absence 
deliver us from the protector of our enemies. Go ; your de- 
parture is the signal for my Frederic’s return. To think 
of sending the handsomest cavalier in Copenhagen into these 
horrible mountains ; fortunately, it will not be difficult for me 
now to secure his recall.” 

With this thought she addressed herself to her favorite 
waiting-maid, — 

“ My dear Lisbeth, you must send to Bergen for two dozen 
of the little combs that the dandies wear in their hair ; you 


250 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


must find out about the famous Scudéry’s latest romance, and 
you must see that my dear Frederic’s monkey has his rose- 
water bath regularly every morning.” 

“ What, my gracious mistress ! ” Lisbeth inquired, “ is Lord 
Frederic about to return ? ” 

“ Yes, indeed ; and in order that he may have some pleas- 
ure in seeing me again, we must have everything that he 
wants. T desire to have a surprise for him when he comes 
back.” 

Poor mother ! 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


251 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Bernard runs rapidly along the hanks of the Arlanca. He is like a lion 
emerging from his lair, seeking the hunters, and determined to vanquish 
them or to die. Is the valiant and determined Spaniard actually on his 
way? With a quickened gait, and grasping in his hand the great lance 
in which he puts his faith, Bernard follows the shores of the Arlanca. — 
Spanish Romances. 

Descending from the tower, whence he had seen Munck- 
holm beacon, Ordener wearied himself for a long time, seek- 
ing on every side for his poor guide, Benignus Spiagudry. 
Many times he called, and the pulsating echo from the ruins 
was his sole response. Surprised, but not alarmed, at this 
extraordinary disappearance, he attributed it to a sudden 
spasm of terror on the part of the timid keeper ; and after 
having generously reproached himself for having left his 
companion, even for a few moments, he decided to pass the 
night on Oëlmœ cliff, to give Spiagudry time to return. So 
he took some food, and wrapping himself up in his cloak lay 
down by the dying fire, pressed the lock of hair that Ethel 
had given him to his lips, and was soon asleep ; for one can 
sleep, even with an anxious heart, when the conscience is 
tranquil. 

At sunrise he was up ; but he found no indication of Spia- 
gudry’s presence, except the knapsack and cloak, left in the 
tower, and apparently discarded as preliminary to a hasty 
departure. Then, despairing of seeing him again, at least on 
Oëlmœ cliff, Ordener made up his mind to go on his way 
alone, for on the morrow he was to find Hans of Iceland at 
Walderhog. 

In the opening chapters of this story it was explained that 
Ordener had early accustomed himself to the fatigues of a 


252 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


wandering and adventurous life. Having already several 
times traversed the north of Norway, he had no need of a 
guide, now that he knew where the brigand was to be found. 
He therefore took his solitary way toward the north-west, no 
longer having Benignns Spiagudry with him to tell him how 
much quartz or feldspar was concealed in every hill, what 
legend was associated with this and that ruin, and whether 
certain disturbances of the soil had been caused by an old- 
time flood or some prehistoric volcanic eruption. 

The whole day long he walked among the mountains, 
which at this point diverge like ribs at intervals from the 
principal range, which runs the whole length of Norway, and 
extend in gradually diminishing height to the borders of the 
sea, where they disappear. The result is, that the coasts of 
this country are made up of a succession of promontories and 
bays, and the interior of alternating mountains and valleys, — 
an exceptional formation, which gives Norway something of 
the structure of the backbone of a fish. 

It was not altogether delightful to travel in such a country. 
Sometimes the route followed the stony bed of what was 
once a mountain torrent ; sometimes it led across a tottering 
tree-trunk over the very pathway which the rains of the night 
before had transformed into a mighty stream. 

Ordener travelled on for several hours, perceiving no other 
indication of human existence in the uncultivated regions 
about him, except the rare appearance of the arms of a wind- 
mill on the top of a hill, or the smoke rising from a distant, 
noisy forge like a great black plume. 

From time to time he met a peasant, riding a small gray 
horse, which made its way along the road with head to the 
ground, and was less grotesque in its aspect than was its 
master. Now and then came a dealer in furs, seated in a 
cart drawn by two reindeer. Behind the cart a long rope 
would be fastened, the numerous knots that were tied in it 
being supposed, as they were jolted from stone to stone in 
the highway, to have a magic influence in frightening off 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


253 


wolves. If Ordener asked the fur-dealer the way to Walder- 
hog grotto, he would get this answer, — 

“ Keep steadily to the north-west, till you come to Hervalyn 
village, then pass through Dodlysax ravine, and to-night you 
will reach Surb, which is only two miles from Walderhog.” 

Thus would run the indifferent response of the nomad 
trader, who knew nothing except the names and positions of 
the places along the route which his business obliged him to 
follow. 

If Ordener addressed the same question to the peasant, 
who was deeply imbued with the traditions of the country 
and its fireside tales, he would shake his head several times, 
and pull up his gray horse, saying, — 

“ Walderhog! Walderhog grotto! That’s where the sing- 
ing stones are and the dancing bones, and the Iceland demon 
lives there. It can’t be that your excellency has any idea of 
going to Walderhog grotto ? ” 

“ Yes, indeed, I have,” would be Ordener’s reply. 

“Has your excellency, then, lost his mother, or has his 
farmhouse been burned, or has some neighbor stolen his fat 
pig ? ” 

“No; nothing of that sort has happened,” the young man 
would say. 

“ Then some magician has cast a spell upon his excel- 
lency.” 

“ My good fellow, I ask you to tell me the way to Walder- 
hog.” 

“ And I am answering your question, my lord. Farewell, 
and keep always to the north ! I know well enough how you 
go to get there, but I don’t know how you will ever get back 
again.” And the peasant would move on, making the sign of 
the cross. 

To the depressing monotony of such conditions was added 
the discomfort of a fine, penetrating rain, which had begun 
about noon, and greatly increased the difficulties of the road. 
Very few birds ventured in the air ; and as Ordener walked 


251 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


along, shivering under his cloak, the only feathered creature 
he could see was the gerfalcon, or fish-hawk, which at the 
noise of his approach would spring up from the reeds of an 
adjacent pond, with a fish in its claws. 

Night had fully come, when the young traveller, having made 
his way through the clumps of birch and aspen which bordered 
Dodlysax ravine, finally came to Surb hamlet, where Spiagu- 
dry, if the reader remembers, wanted to make his headquar- 
ters. The odor of tar and the smoke of soft coal warned 
Ordener that he was approaching a fishing settlement. He 
went up to the first hut which he could see in the darkness. 
The low, narrow entrance was closed, according to Norwegian 
custom, with a big transparent fish-skin, which at this moment 
was illuminated by the reddish, flickering gleam of a fire 
within. He knocked upon the wooden door-case and called 
out, — 

“ A wayfarer ! ” 

“ Come in, come in,” a voice responded from the other side ; 
and at the same moment a ready hand lifted the fish-skin, and 
Ordener was admitted to the conical dwelling of a Norwegian 
coast fisherman. 

It was a sort of rounded shelter of wood and earth, with a 
fire burning in the centre, the purplish flame of peat mingling 
with the clear blaze of pine. Near the fire the fisherman was 
sitting with his wife and two ragged children, before a table 
set with wooden plates and earthen cups. On the opposite 
side, among the nets and oars, two reindeer were sleeping on 
a bed of leaves and skins, which was long enough to provide 
additional space for the slumbers of the family and such 
guests as it might please heaven to bring them. This arrange- 
ment of the interior of the hut was not discernible at first 
glance ; for an acrid and heavy smoke, making its way toward 
the opening in the summit of the cone, covered everything 
with a thick, wavering veil. 

Ordener had scarcely crossed the threshold, when the fisher- 
man and his wife got up and welcomed him with the utmost 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


255 


frankness and cordiality. The Norwegian peasants are very 
fond of visitors, actuated perhaps as much by the sentiment , 
of curiosity, which is very active in them, as by their natural 
disposition to hospitality. 

“ My lord,” said the fisherman, “ you must be cold and 
hungry ; here is a fire to dry your cloak, and wholesome rinde- 
brod to appease your hunger. Your excellency will deign, 
later on, to tell us who he is, whence he comes, whither he 
goes, and what news he has gathered up in his journeying 
about the country.” 

“ Yes, my lord,” the woman added; “ and you can add to 
the rindebrod, which is very fine, as my husband and master 
has said, a dainty bit of salted stock-fish, seasoned with whale- 
oil. Be seated, my lord stranger.” 

“ And if your excellency is not fond of St. Usuph’s 1 fare,” 
the man went on, “ just have patience a moment, and I will 
give him the privilege of eating a quarter of savory roebuck, 
or at least the wing of a royal pheasant. We are looking for 
the return of the most skilful hunter in the three provinces. 
Isn’t that so, my good Maase ? ” 

The name Maase, which the fisherman bestowed upon his 
wife, is a Norwegian name, meaning sea-gull. The woman 
accepted it as a matter of course, either because it was actually 
her name, or had been given her simply out of affection. 

“ The best hunter, — I should say so, indeed ! ” she responded 
heartily. “ ’Tis my brother, the famous Kennybol, may 
heaven bless his pathway ! He is come to pass a few days 
with us ; and you, my lord stranger, can take from the same 
cup as he a draught of this good beer. He is a traveller, like 
you.” 

“ Many thanks, my worthy hostess,” said Ordener, with a 
smile ; “ but I shall be forced to content myself with your 
appetizing stock-fish and a bit of rindebrod. I am in too much 
of a hurry to wait for your brother, the famous hunter. I 
must go on my way as soon as possible.” 

1 St. Usuph is the patron saint of fisherman. 


256 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


The worthy Maase did not take kindly to the stranger’s 
, announcement of a brief stay ; but she was flattered by the 
praises bestowed upon her stock-fish and her brother, and she 
exclaimed, — 

“ You are very good, my lord ; but how is it that you quit 
us so soon ? ” 

“ It is necessary.” 

“ You venture out among the mountains at this hour and 
in such weather ? ” 

“ It is a matter of importance.” 

The young man’s responses excited the curiosity of the 
fisherman and his wife, and also aroused their astonishment. 
The fisherman got up and said, - — 

“ You are in the house of Christopher Buldus Braal, fisher- 
man of Surb hamlet.” 

“ Maase Kennybol is his wife and servant,” the woman 
added. 

When the Norwegian peasants desired to learn a stranger’s 
name in a polite way, their manner was to tell their own. 

“ And I,” Ordener responded, “ am a traveller, who is sure 
neither of the name he bears nor of the road he would 
follow.” 

This extraordinary response did not seem to be at all sat- 
isfactory to fisherman Braal. 

“By the crown of Gormon the Old,” he said, “I thought 
that at this moment there was only one man in Norway who 
was not sure of his name; and that is the noble Baron of 
Thorvick, who, ’tis said, is soon to be known as the Count of 
Danneskiold, in consequence of his brilliant marriage with the 
chancellor’s daughter. At any rate, my good Maase, that is 
the latest news that I could pick up at Drontheim. I congrat- 
ulate you, my lord stranger, upon being in the same boat with 
the viceroy’s son, the distinguished Count Guldenlew.” 

“ Since,” the woman added, with a face blazing with curi- 
osity, — “ since your excellency seems to be unable to tell us 
about yourself, can you not inform us of what is going on in 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


257 


the world, — for instance, about this great marriage, which 
my husband has been hearing about ? ” 

“ Yes,” said the husband, with a knowing air, “ that is 
really the latest news. Before another month the viceroy’s 
son is to marry the grand chancellor’s daughter.” 

“ I doubt it,” said Ordener. 

“ You doubt it, my lord ! I can assure you, of my own 
knowledge, that the thing is settled. I had it from sound 
authority. The one who told me got it from Master Poël, 
the favorite attendant on the noble Baron of Thorvick, or 
rather the noble Count of Danneskiold. Have the waters 
been troubled by a storm in the last six days ? Has the 
great match been broken off ? ” 

“ I think so,” the young man responded, with a smile. 

“ If that is the case, my lord, I was wrong. It is not well 
to light the fire to fry the fish until the fish is in the net. 
But is it really broken off ? From whom did you get the 
news ? ” 

“ From no one,” said Ordener. “ I arranged it that way in 
my own head.” 

At this artless speech the fisherman so far forgot the de- 
mands of Norwegian courtesy as to burst into a loud laugh. 

“ A thousand pardons, my lord, but it is easy to see that 
you are indeed a traveller and doubtless a foreigner also. Do 
you really think that events will take place according to your 
whims, and that the weather will be stormy, or clear off, in 
accordance with your desire ? ” 

At this point the fisherman, who was well informed on 
national affairs, like all the Norwegian peasantry, began to 
explain to Ordener why the marriage could not possibly fail to 
take place. It was essential to the interests of the Ahlefeld 
family ; the viceroy could not refuse the king’s request, for the 
king was greatly in favor of it; and, moreover, it was said 
that the two persons most closely interested were very much 
in love with one another. In fact, fisherman Braal had no 
doubt whatever that the alliance would take place ; he wished 


258 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


he were as sure of being able on the morrow to kill the cursed 
dog-fish that infested Masterbick pond. 

Ordener felt little disposed to carry on a political discussion 
with so unpolished a statesman, when the arrival of a new- 
comer relieved him from his embarrassment. 

“ ’Tis he, — ’tis my brother ! ” exclaimed old Maase ; and 
nothing but the arrival of her brother would have been able 
to break in upon the admiring absorption with which she 
listened to her husband’s pretentious words. 

While the two children clung noisily about their uncle’s 
neck, the fisherman put out his hand, with much dignity. 

“Welcome, brother,” he said, and then, turning to Ordener, 
added, “ my lord, this is our brother, Kenny bol, the renowned 
hunter of Kole mountains.” 

“I salute you cordially,” said the mountaineer, doffing his 
bear-skin cap. “I have but poor luck hunting here on the 
shore, brother, as you no doubt Avould make no great haul 
fishing among the mountains. I believe that I could fill my 
bag sooner hunting elves and will-o’-the-wisps in Queen Mab’s 
misty forests. Sister Maase, you are the first sea-gull to 
whom I have been able to say how do you do to-day. Well, 
friends, God keep you in peace ! ’Tis for this paltry heath- 
cock that the chief hunter in Drontheimhus has tramped the 
clearings till this late hour, and in such weather ! ” 

Saying this, he drew from his game-bag a white bird, and 
threw it on the table, swearing that such a skinny beast was 
not worth a musket-shot. 

“ But,” he added, under his breath, “ faithful arquebuse, 
you shall soon find nobler game. If you cease to puncture 
elk-hides and chamois-skins, you shall at least make holes in 
green coats and red jerkins.” 

This half-audible speech served to arouse Maase’s curiosity. 

“ Eh ? ” she demanded, “ what are you saying, brother ? ” 

“ I say that there is always a babbling sprite dancing under 
a woman’s tongue.” 

“You’re right, brother Kennybol,” exclaimed the fisher-. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


259 


man. “ These daughters of Eve have all their mother’s cu- 
riosity. Were you speaking about green coats ? ” 

“ Brother Braal,” the hunter responded, with an expression 
of annoyance, “ I confide my secrets only to my musket, be- 
cause then I am sure they will not be repeated.” 

“They say in the village,” the fisherman obstinately per- 
sisted, “ that there is to be a revolt among the miners. Do 
you know anything about it, brother ? ” 

The mountaineer put on his cap, and pulled it over his eyes, 
looking sideways at the stranger. Then he leaned over toward 
the fisherman, and said curtly and in a low tone, — 

“ Silence ! ” 

“ Brother Kennybol,” said the fisherman slowly, shaking his 
head, “ the fish may be dumb, but all the same it gets into the 
net.” 

For a moment nothing more was said. The two brothers 
looked at one another searchingly ; the children were pulling 
feathers out of the bird that lay on the table ; the good dame 
listened to what was not being said ; and Ordener quietly 
observed the scene about him. 

“ If you have meagre fare to-day,” said the hunter sud- 
denly, with an evident desire to change the conversation, 
“ you will be better served to-morrow. Brother Braal, you 
can try for the king of fish ; I promise you bear’s oil, by way 
of sauce.” 

“ Bear’s oil ! ” exclaimed Maase. “ Has a bear been seen 
around here ? Patrick, Begner, my children, you mustn’t go 
out of doors. A bear ! ” 

“ Take it easy, sister, you’ll have nothing to fear from him 
after to-morrow. Yes, I saw a bear about two miles from 
Surb, — a white bear. He seemed to be carrying off a man, 
or some kind of an animal. Perhaps it was a goatherd, for 
goatherds clothe themselves in skins. At any rate, he was 
too far away for me to see him. The surprising part of it 
was, he carried his prey on his back, and not in his teeth.” 

“ Indeed, brother ? ” 


260 


HAN 8 OF ICELAND. 


“ Yes ; and the animal must have been dead, for it made 
no movement to defend itself.” 

“ But,” the fisherman inquired sagaciously, “ if it was dead, 
how did it stay in place on the bear’s back ? ” 

“ That’s what I don’t understand. Well, in any case, ’twill 
be the bear’s last dinner. As I came into the village, I gave 
the word to six good fellows, and to-morrow, sister Maase, I 
shall bring you the prettiest bit of white fur that ever ran 
over mountain snows.” 

“ Look out, brother,” said the woman ; “ ’twas a strange 
thing you saw. That bear may be the devil.” 

“ Are you off your head ? ” the mountaineer interrupted, 
with a laugh. “ The devil changed into a bear ! Into a cat, 
or an ape, if you like ; that has been seen, — but into a bear ! 
Why, by St. Eldon the Exorcist, you would excite the pity of 
a child or an old woman with your superstitions.” 

“ Brother,” said the poor woman, hanging her head, “you 
were my master before my venerated husband cast eyes on 
me ; do as your guardian angel tells you.” 

“ But,” the fisherman asked of the mountaineer, “ in what 
direction did you see the bear ? ” 

“ On the way from Smiasen to Walderhog.” 

“Walderhog!” exclaimed the woman, making the sign of 
the cross. 

“ Walderhog ! ” repeated Ordener. 

“But, my brother,” the fisherman went on, “I hope you 
were not going to Walderhog grotto ? ” 

“I ? Heaven forbid, — it was the bear ! ” 

“ And are you going there to-morrow in search of him ? ” 
Maase interrupted, in terror. 

“ Not at all ; how can you think, my friends, that even a 
bear would make his home in a cavern where ” — He paused, 
and the three crossed themselves. 

“ You are right,” the fisherman responded, “ instinct warns 
beasts about such things.” 

“ My excellent hosts,” said Ordener, “ what is there so 
alarming in regard to Walderhog grotto ? ” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


261 


All three looked at him in gaping astonishment, as if they 
could not understand the purport of his question. 

“ King Walder’s tomb is there, is it not ? ” the young man 
inquired. 

“ Yes,” the woman responded, “ a singing tomb of stone.” 

“ And that is not all,” said the fisherman. 

“ No,” she went on ; “ at night the bones of dead men dance 
there.” 

“And that is not all,” said the mountaineer. All three 
were silent, as if they dared not go on. 

“ Well,” Ordener inquired, “what else is there that is 
extraordinary ? ” 

“ Young man,” said the mountaineer solemnly, “you should 
not speak so lightly when you see an old gray wolf like me 
in a shiver.” 

“ I would like, however, to know all the details about the 
marvellous things that take place at Walderhog grotto, for 
that is precisely where I am going,” the young man re- 
sponded, with a gentle smile. This declaration overwhelmed 
his three auditors with terror. 

“ To Walderhog, — great heavens ; you are going to Walder- 
hog ! ” 

“ And he said that,” the fisherman went on, “ as one would 
say, ‘ I am going to Lcevig to sell my codfish/ or ‘ to Ralph’s 
clearing to fish for herring ! 9 To Walderhog, great God ! ” 

“Wretched young man,” exclaimed the woman, “were 
you born without a guardian angel? Is there no saint in 
heaven who is your patron ? Alas, it must be so, since you 
do not even seem to know your own name ! ” 

“ And what motive,” the mountaineer interrupted, “ could 
induce your excellency to go to that horrible place ? ” 

“I wanted to ask a question of somebody,” Ordener re- 
sponded. 

The astonishment of the three listeners increased in pro- 
portion to their curiosity. 

“ Listen, my lord stranger ; you seem not to be acquainted 


262 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


with this country. Your excellency is laboring under a mis- 
take ; it can’t be that Walderhog is the place that you want 
to go to. More than that/’ the mountaineer added, “ if you 
wanted to ask a question of any human being, you wouldn’t 
find one there.” 

“None but the demon,” said the woman. 

“ The demon ? What demon ? ” 

“ Yes,” she continued, “ the one that the tomb sings for 
and that the bones dance for.” 

“ You don’t know, then, my lord,” said the fisherman, low- 
ering his voice and drawing near to Ordener, “you do not 
know that Walderhog grotto is the usual dwelling of ” — 

“My husband and master,” the woman interrupted, “do 
not utter that name ; it brings misfortune.” 

“ Whose dwelling ? ” Ordener asked. 

“ Of Beelzebub incarnate,” said Kenny bol. 

“Well, really, my worthy hosts, I don’t know what you are 
driving at. I was told very definitely that Walderhog was 
inhabited by Hans of Iceland.” 

A threefold cry of horror echoed in the cabin. “ Ah, yes 
— you know him — he is the demon ! ” 

The woman pulled her roughly fashioned cap down over 
her head, protesting in the presence of all the saints that it 
was not she who had uttered the name. 

When the fisherman had recovered a little from his stupe- 
faction, he looked earnestly at Ordener, as if there were some- 
thing about the young man that he could not understand. 

“ I believed, my lord traveller, that if I lived to be as old 
as my father, who died at one hundred and twenty, I never 
should be called upon to point out the road to Walderhog by 
any human creature endowed with reason and believing in 
God.” 

“ That’s true,” Maase exclaimed ; “ but his excellency will 
not go to the cursed grotto. To put his foot inside of it, he 
would have to make a bargain with the devil ! ” 

“ I am going, my worthy hosts, and the greatest service 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


263 


that you can render me will be to show me the shortest 
road.” 

“ The shortest way to the place where you want to go,” said 
the fisherman, “ would be for you to jump from the first high 
rock you find into the nearest torrent.” 

“ Is it the same, then,” Ordener inquired tranquilly, “ to 
prefer a profitless death to a beneficent danger ? ” 

Braal shook his head, while his brother scrutinized the 
young adventurer very closely. 

“ I understand,” the fisherman suddenly exclaimed ; “ you 
want to get the thousand royal crowns that the high syndic 
offered for the Iceland demon’s head.” Ordener smiled. “ My 
young lord,” the fisherman went on, greatly moved, “ I beg of 
you to renounce this project. I am old and poor ; but I would 
not give what remains to me of life for your thousand royal 
crowns, if it were only a single day.” 

The supplicating and compassionate look which the woman 
bestowed upon the stranger seemed to demand a response to 
her husband’s entreaty. 

“ The object that I have in hunting out this brigand, whom 
you call a demon,” Ordener hastened to reply, “is more im- 
portant than the one you have suggested. It is in behalf of 
others and not for myself that ” — 

The mountaineer, who had not taken his eyes from Ordener, 
now interposed. 

“I understand, too, why you are hunting for the Iceland 
demon.” 

“ I want to force him to fight,” said the young man. 

“ That’s it,” said Kennybol ; “ you are intrusted with im- 
portant interests, are you not ? ” 

“ I told you so just now.” 

The mountaineer approached the young man with a confi- 
dential air ; and it was not without extreme astonishment that 
Ordener heard him murmur in his ear, — 

“ In behalf of Count Schumacker of Griffenf eld, is it not ? ” 

“ My good fellow,” Ordener exclaimed, “ how do you know ? ” 


264 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


It was indeed difficult for him to understand how a Norwe- 
gian mountaineer could be aware of the secret, which he had 
confided to no one, not even to General Levin. 

“ I wish you success/’ Kennybol went on, with his air of 
mystery; “you are a noble young man, to put yourself, in 
this way, at the service of the oppressed.” 

The astonishment that Ordener felt was so great that he 
with difficulty found words to ask the mountaineer how he 
had learned of the object of his journey. 

“ Hush,” said Kennybol, with his finger on his lips ; “ I 
hope that you will secure what you want at Walderhog. My 
arm, like yours, is devoted to the Munckholm prisoner.” 
Then raising his voice, before Ordener could reply, he said, 
“Brother, and good sister also, welcome this worthy young 
man as a brother. Come, I believe that supper is ready.” 

“ What ? ” said Maase, “ you have then persuaded his excel- 
lency to give up the idea of making a visit to the demon ? ” 

“ Sister, pray that no evil may come to him. He is a noble 
and worthy young man. Now, good my lord, take some food 
and get a little sleep. To-morrow I will show you the road, 
and we will make the quest together, — you in pursuit of 
the devil you seek for, and I to track the bear.” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


265 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

Comrade, oh, my comrade, of what comrade wast thou bom ? Of what child 

of men art thou the offspring, that thou darest to attack Farnir? — Edda. 

The first rays of the rising sun had just begun to redden 
the highest points of the cliffs along the shore, when a fisher- 
man, who had come at dawn to cast his nets a few hundred 
yards out from the entrance to Walderhog grotto, saw a figure 
that seemed to be wrapped up in either a cloak or a shroud 
climbing down the rocks and disappearing within the gloomy 
archway of the cavern. Struck with terror, he commended 
his boat and soul to St. Usuph, and hastened home to inform 
his alarmed family that he had seen one of the spectres that 
haunt Hans of Iceland’s palace, returning to the grotto at 
break of day. 

This ghostly visitor, whose exploits furnished entertainment 
and a fearful joy for many a long winter, was Ordener, the 
noble son of Norway’s viceroy, who, while the two kingdoms 
believed that he was devoting himself to attendance upon his 
haughty betrothed, was venturing, single handed and unknown, 
to risk his life for her to whom he had pledged his heart and 
his future, the daughter of a state prisoner. 

Melancholy prophecies and sinster predictions had accom- 
panied him on this part of his journey. He had just left the 
fisherman’s family, bidding farewell to the worthy Maase as 
she knelt in prayer for him at the threshold. Kennybol, the 
mountaineer, and his six companions, who had shown him his 
road, had left him half a mile from W alderhog ; and the in- 
trepid hunters, who had gone laughingly in pursuit of the 
bear, sent prolonged and frightened glances down the path 
that the adventurous traveller was following. 


266 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


The young man entered Walderhog grotto as one enters a 
long-wished-for haven. He experienced something like celes- 
tial joy in thinking that the object of his life was about to be 
accomplished, and that perhaps in a few moments more he 
should be shedding his blood for Ethel. Although he was on 
the point of attacking the most redoubtable brigand of the 
whole province, a monster, and it might be a demon, his 
fancy did not dwell at all upon the horrible possibilities of 
such an encounter ; he saw nothing but the winsome image 
of the captive maiden, as she prayed for him in the prison 
oratory. If it had been any one but she for whom he had 
made the venture, he would perhaps have reflected scornfully 
upon the perils which he had come so far to seek ; but does 
reflection find a place in a youthful heart, at the time when 
it is filled with the exaltations of noble devotion and self- 
sacrificing love ? 

He went on with head erect under the vaulted roof, from 
which the noise of his footsteps echoed back like the tramp 
of an advancing army ; and he did not even cast a glance at 
the stalactites and basaltic shapes that hung above his head 
over the heaps of moss, seaweed, and lichens, — a complex 
array of grotesque forms, which more than once had been 
taken by the superstitious credulity of the Norwegian peas- 
ants for a gathering of demons or a procession of phantoms. 
With the same indifference he passed by King Walder’s tomb, 
with which were associated so many lugubrious traditions; 
and the only voice he heard was the moaning of the wind as 
it swept through the funereal galleries. 

He continued his journey under the winding archway, which 
was dimly lit up by crevices, half-filled with grass and heather. 
His foot often struck against objects that rolled away along the 
rocky floor with a hollow sound, having the appearance, in the 
obscurity, of broken skulls, or long rows of white teeth, exposed 
to their roots. But no terror left its impress on his noble soul. 

His only emotion was one of surprise that he had not 
already met the formidable inhabitant of the awful grotto. 


II AN S OF ICELAND. 


2G7 


He came to a sort of rounded hall, that had been excavated 
by nature in the side of the rock. There the subterranean path 
that he had been following came to an end, and the only open- 
ings that were visible were great fissures, through which he 
could see the mountains and the woods without. Astonished 
at having traversed the ill-omened cavern so fruitlessly, he 
began to despair of meeting the brigand, when a structure of 
unusual form, in the centre of the hall, attracted his attention. 
Three long and massive pieces of stone stood upright, carry- 
ing a large, square block, like three pillars upholding a roof. 
Under this gigantic table was a sort of altar, made of a single 
block of granite, and with a circular opening on its upper face. 
Ordener recognized one of the colossal Druidical monuments 
which he had often seen in his travels through Norway, and 
of which the most extraordinary examples perhaps are the 
Lokmariaker and Carnac monuments in France, — marvellous 
structures, set up like tents for a day, and yet having a solid- 
ity that has made them last for ages. 

Absorbed in thought, the young man leaned mechanically 
over the altar, where the stone about the circular depression 
was stained to brown, so often had it drunk deeply of the 
blood of human sacrifice. All at once he was startled from 
his tranquillity. A voice, that seemed to come from the 
stone, struck upon his ear. 

“ Young man, the feet that brought you to this place stand 
upon the verge of the tomb.” 

He drew himself up, and his hand went to his sword-hilt, 
while an echo, faint as the voice of one at the point of death, 
repeated distinctly in the recesses of the cavern, — - 

“ Young man, the feet that brought you to this place stand 
upon the verge of the tomb.” 

At that moment a horrible head, red-haired and grinning 
atrociously, rose from the other side of the altar. 

“ Young man,” the voice repeated, “ thus it is, — the feet 
that brought you to this spot stand on the verge of the 
tomb.” 


268 


BANS OF ICELAND. 


“ And the hand that came with me rests upon a sword,” the 
young man responded, without trepidation. 

The monster came from behind the altar, and showed his 
thick-set, sinewy figure, his savage, blood-stained clothing, 
his crooked fingers, and a heavy stone axe. 

“ Here I am,” he said, with a wild beast’s roar. 

“ Here am I,” responded Ordener. 

“ I expected you.” 

“ I did more than that,” the intrepid young man replied ; 
“I came in search of you.” 

“ Do you know who I am ? ” said the brigand, folding his 
arms. 

“Yes.” 

“ And you are not afraid ? ” 

“ Not in the least now.” 

“ You had some fear, then, in coming here ? ” and the 
monster wagged his head triumphantly. 

“ That I might not find you.” 

“ You dare to face me ; and your feet have been stumbling 
over human bones.” 

“ To-morrow, perhaps, they will stumble over yours.” 

The little man was seized with a paroxysm of anger. Or- 
dener stood motionless, in a calm and haughty attitude. 

“ Take care,” the brigand muttered, “ I shall fall upon you 
like a Norway hailstorm on a parasol.” 

“ I ask for no other shield against you.” 

There seemed to be something in Ordener’s glance that 
quelled the monster. He began to tear the hair out of his 
cloak with his nails, as a tiger claws up grass before springing 
on his prey. 

“ You teach me what pity is,” he said. 

“ And you teach me nothing but scorn.” 

“ Child, your voice is soft and your skin is fresh, like the 
voice and skin of a young girl. What death will you have 
from me ? ” 

“ Your own.” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


269 


“You do not know that I am a demon,” the little man 
said, with a laugh, — “ that I have within me the spirit of 
Ingolphus the Exterminator.” 

“ I know that you are a brigand, and that you kill to get 
gold.” 

“ You are wrong,” the monster interrupted ; “ it is to get 
blood.” 

“ Were you not paid by the Ahlefelds for killing Captain 
Dispolsen ? ” 

“ What do you mean by that ? What names are those ? ” 

“ Did you not know that it was Captain Dispolsen that you 
killed on Urchtal sands ? ” 

“ It may be so ; but I forgot about him, as I shall forget 
about you three days hence.” 

“ You don’t know the Count of Ahlefeld, who paid you for 
taking an iron casket from the captain ? ” 

“ Ahlefeld — wait ; yes, I do know him. Yesterday I 
drank his son’s blood from my son’s skull.” 

“ Were you not contented with your wages ? ” said Ordener, 
with a shudder of horror. 

“ What wages ? ” the brigand demanded. 

“ Listen. The sight of you is offensive to me ; there must 
be an end. A week ago you took an iron casket from one of 
your victims, a Munckholm officer.” 

“ A Munckholm officer ! ” the brigand snarled, starting for- 
ward ; and then he added, with a look of surprise, “ are you 
also a Munckholm officer ? ” 

“ Ko,” said Ordener. 

“ So much the worse ! ” And the brigand’s features again 
became gloomy. 

“ Listen,” Ordener persisted; “ where is the iron casket 
that you took from the captain?” 

“ By Ingolphus ! ” the little man said, after a moment’s 
thought, “ that evil casket occupies many minds. I can 
assure you that there won’t be so eager a hunt after the box 
that holds your bones, if they are ever brought together for 
sepulchre.” 


270 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


The words showed Ordener that the brigand knew some- 
thing about the casket, and this revived his hopes for its 
recovery. 

u Tell me what you did with the casket. Has it gone to 
the Count of Ahlefeld ? ” 

“ Ho.” 

“ You lie, for you are laughing.” 

“ Think what you like. What difference does it make to 
me ? ” 

The monster had taken a jocular tone, which aroused Or- 
dener’ s suspicion. He saw that there was nothing for it but 
to put him in a rage, or intimidate him if it were possible. 

“ Understand me,” he said, lifting his voice; “ you must 
give me that casket.” The other responded with a savage 
chuckle. “ You must give it to me ! ” the young man re- 
peated, in thunderous tones. 

“ Are you used to giving orders to buffaloes and bears ? ” 
the monster replied, with the same laugh. 

u I would give that one to a demon in hell ! ” 

“ You will be able to do that very quickly.” 

Ordener drew his sword, which shone in the darkness like 
a flash of sunlight. 

“ Obey ! ” 

“ Remember,” the other responded, waving his axe, “ I 
might have broken your bones and sucked your blood when 
you first came, but I held back. I was curious to see if the 
frisky little sparrow would fall upon the vulture.” 

“ Scoundrel,” shouted Ordener, “ defend yourself ! ” 

“ This is the first time that speech was ever made to me,” 
the brigand muttered, gnashing his teeth. 

Speaking thus, he jumped upon the granite altar, and 
crouched like a leopard, waiting to spring upon the hunter 
from the top of a rock, and to take him by surprise. From 
thence he fixed his gaze upon the young man, and seemed to be 
considering the best way to make the assault. It would have 
been all up with Ordener if he had waited, but he did not 



“THE BRIGAND JUMPED UPON THE GRANITE ALTAR. 


1 ? 


> 






HANS OF ICELAND. 


271 


give the brigand, time to reflect ; he sprang impetuously 
upon him, thrusting the point of his sword at that horrible 
face. 

Then began the most terrific combat that imagination can 
depict. The little man, standing on the altar like a statue on 
its pedestal, looked like one of the horrible idols which in 
prehistoric times were the recipients in that place of impious 
sacrifices and sacrilegious offerings. His movements were so 
rapid, that, on whatever side Ordener made his attack, he was 
always confronted with the monster’s face and the waving 
axe. He would have been cut in pieces in the first stages of 
the contest, if he had not had the happy thought of wrapping 
his cloak around his left arm, and receiving the greater part 
of his enemy’s blows upon that elastic protection. For 
several moments they made fruitless and incredible efforts to 
wound one another. The little man’s glaring eyes started 
from their sockets. Surprised at being so vigorously and 
audaciously withstood by an adversary apparently so feeble, 
the monster dropped his savage chuckle for an expression of 
sombre rage. The frightful immobility of the monster’s 
features and the calm intrepidity of Ordener’s face were in 
startling contrast with the energy of their movements and the 
vivacity of their attacks. 

Nothing could be heard but the clash of weapons, the hur- 
ried steps of the young man, and the quickened respiration of 
the two combatants, until the little man uttered a terrible 
roar. The head of his axe caught in the folded cloak. He 
straightened up and shook his arm furiously ; but he only got 
the handle more closely involved in the cloak, which at each 
attempt twisted more closely around it. The brigand saw the 
young man’s blade approaching his breast. 

“ Hear me once more,” said Ordener triumphantly ; u will 
you give me the iron casket that you stole in so cowardly a 
way ? ” 

The little man was silent for a moment, then exclaimed, 
with another roar, “ A thousand curses, no ! ” 


272 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ Reflect ! ” Ordener said, without relaxing his victorious 
and threatening attitude. 

“Ho ; I told you no ! ” repeated the brigand. 

“Very well,” said the noble young man, dropping his 
sword, “ get your axe loose from the folds of my cloak, and 
we will try it again.” 

“ Child, you are too generous,” the monster responded, with 
a disdainful laugh ; “ I have no need of such kindness ! ” 

Before the surprised Ordener could turn his head, the 
monster put his foot on the shoulder of his loyal adversary, 
and at one bound was a dozen feet away, down the hall. 
With another leap he sprang upon Ordener, and hung upon 
him, like a panther clinging tooth and nail to the flanks of 
some great lion. His nails sank into the young man’s shoul- 
ders, his bony knees gripped his hips, while his terrible face 
confronted Ordener’s gaze with its bloody mouth and wild 
beast’s fangs, ready to flay him. The monster spoke no 
more, no human words came from his panting throat; but a 
dull bellow, mingled with harsh, sharp cries, served to ex- 
press his rage. He was more hideous than a ferocious beast, 
more monstrous than a demon ; he had the appearance of a 
man deprived of all the attributes of humanity. 

Ordener gave way under the little man’s assault, and would 
have fallen at the unexpected attack, if one of the great 
pillars of the Druidical monument had not stood behind him 
and given him support. He leaned over, gasping under the 
weight of his formidable enemy. It must be remembered 
that the incidents we have been describing took place in less 
time than is required to summon them before the mind, and 
from this fact one can have some idea of the horrible climax 
of the struggle. 

As has been said, the young man gave way, but he did not 
tremble. In his thoughts he said farewell to Ethel, and that 
love-inspired tribute acted like a prayer, reviving his strength. 
He put both arms about the monster, and, seizing his sword 
midway, he brought the point straight down upon his assail- 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


273 


ant’s back. The brigand set up a terrific yell, and, throwing 
himself over, broke Ordener’s hold, got loose from the clutch 
of his intrepid adversary, and fell to the ground several steps 
away, carrying in his teeth a piece of the green cloak, which 
he had bitten out in his fury. 

He sprang up again with the suppleness and agility of a 
young chamois, and the combat was renewed for the third 
time, with more ferocity than ever. He had fallen by chance 
near a heap of fragments of rock, which had been overgrown 
with moss and brambles for centuries. Two men of ordinary 
strength would scarcely have been able to lift the smallest of 
these fragments. The brigand seized one of them, and lifted 
it above his head, and held it there, facing Ordener. His 
expression at that moment was frightful. The missile flew 
violently forward and fell heavily to the ground, the young 
man barely having the time to evade it. The granite block 
was shattered at the foot of the subterranean wall with a 
horrible noise, that was intensified many-fold as it re-echoed 
from the depths of the grotto. 

Ordener had scarcely recovered his composure before the 
brigand had a second mass of stone uplifted. Irritated at so 
cowardly an attack, the youth sprang toward the little man, 
sword in hand, with the object of putting an end to such 
tactics ; but the great stone shot forward like a thunderbolt, 
and, sweeping with a revolving motion through the oppressive 
obscurity of the cavern, it struck in its passage the slender 
and naked blade of Ordener’s weapon, and broke it short off, 
as if it had been a strip of glass, while the vaulted roof 
resounded with the monster’s savage laughter. Ordener was 
disarmed. 

“ Have you anything to ask of God or of the devil before 
you die ? ” the monster shouted. 

His eyes darted flame, his muscles were convulsed with 
rage and joy, and he sprang in a spasm of impatience toward 
the axe, which lay on the ground, entangled in the cloak, 
Poor Ethel ! 


274 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


All at once a distant roaring sound came from without. 
The monster paused. The noise increased ; the shouting of 
men mingled with the plaintive growling of a bear. The 
brigand listened. The cries of distress went on. He quickly 
seized his axe, and, turning from Ordener, sprang through one 
of the fissures which have previously been spoken of, and 
which gave access to the outer air. Ordener, in his surprise 
at being thus forsaken, also hastened towards one of these 
natural doorways, and saw in the clearing close by a great 
white bear, held at bay by seven hunters, among whom he 
thought that he could distinguish Kennybol, whose words had 
impressed him so strongly the preceding night. He turned 
around. The brigand was no longer in the grotto, and from 
without he heard a terrible voice exclaiming, — 

“ Friend ! Friend ! I’m coming; here I am ! ” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


275 


CHAPTER XXX. 


Pierre, good lad, has lost his all at dice. — Régnier. 


The regiment of Munckholm arquebusiers is marching 
through the passes between Drontheim and Skongen. Some- 
times it follows along the banks of a mountain stream, and 
one can see the line of bayonets creeping through the ravines, 
like a great serpent with gleaming scales ; sometimes it winds 
upward in a spiral over a mountain peak, and then resembles 
the bronze battalions on ancient triumphal columns. The 
soldiers move along in slouching and careless fashion, their 
whole bearing expressive of ill-humor and weariness, because 
these noble heroes are content with nothing but combat or 
repose. The coarse jests and antique sarcasms which delighted 
them so much the day before give them no amusement now ; 
the air is sharp and the sky clouded. The only time when a 
laugh comes from the ranks is when a sutler-woman has an 
awkward fall from her little horse’s back, or a tin saucepan 
clatters from rock to rock to the bottom of the precipice. 

Out of desire to find some distraction from the monotony of 
the march, Lieutenant Randmer, a young Danish baron, comes 
up to old Captain Lory, soldier of fortune. The captain 
strides along, in sombre and silent fashion, with a heavy, 
determined tread. The lieutenant is light and agile, and bran- 
dishes a switch which he has snatched from the brushwood 
along the road. 

“ Well, captain, what’s the matter with you ? You look 
melancholy.” 

“ There seems to be reason enough for that,” the elder 
officer responded, without raising his head. 


276 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ There, there ; let’s have no fretting. Look at me ; am I 
a blighted being ? And yet I warrant that I have at least as 
much reason to be so as you.” 

“ I doubt it, Baron Randmer ; I have lost everything I had, 
my whole fortune.” 

“ Captain Lory, we are exactly in the same boat. It is not 
a fortnight since Lieutenant Alberick won from me my hand- 
some castle at Randmer and all its appurtenances with one 
cast of the dice. I am ruined ; but shall I be any the less gay 
for that reason ? ” 

“Lieutenant,” the captain responded, in an extremely sorrow- 
ful tone, “ you lost nothing but your fine castle ; I have lost 
my dog.” 

At this response, the young man’s frivolous countenance 
seemed to waver between laughter and sympathy. 

“ Captain,” he said, “ cheer up ; why, I, who have lost a 
castle ” — 

“ What does all that come to ? ” the other interrupted. 
“ And besides, you’ll get another castle.” 

“ And you will find another dog.” 

“ I find another dog ? ” said the older man, shaking his 
head ; “ I shall never find my poor Drake again.” He paused, 
and great tears fell from his eyes over his rough, weather- 
beaten face. “ I never loved anybody but him,” he went on. 
“ I never knew either father or mother ; God grant them 
peace, and my poor Drake too ! Lieutenant Randmer, he 
saved my life in the Pomeranian war ; I called him Drake in 
honor of the famous admiral. That good dog, — he was al- 
ways the same to me, whatever might be my fortunes. After 
Oholfen, the great General Shaack gave him a pat, and said to 
me, ( You’ve a fine dog there, Sergeant Lory!’ for at that 
time I was only a sergeant.” 

“Ah,” the young baron interrupted, brandishing his switch, 
“ it must seem queer to be nothing but a sergeant.” 

The old soldier of fortune did not hear; he seemed to be 
talking to himself, and the words he let fall were scarcely 
audible. 


HANS OF ICELAND, 


277 


“ Poor Brake, to come out of so many tight places, safe 
and sound, and then be drowned at last like a cat, in Dron- 
theim bay ! My poor dog, my brave friend, you deserved to 
die, like me, on the field of battle ! ” 

“ My good captain,” the lieutenant exclaimed, “ how can 
you be so sad ? Perhaps we shall have a fight to-morrow.” 

“ Yes,” the old captain responded disdainfully, “ against 
noble foes ! ” 

“ What, those miner brigands and mountaineer devils ! ” 

“ Stone-cutters and highwaymen, — dullards, who don’t even 
know how to form in pork’s-head or a Gustavus Adolphus 
wedge ! That’s the sort of stuff they put out before a man 
like me, who have been through all the Pomeranian wars and 
fought the Scania and Dalecarlia campaigns, — who have 
fought under the glorious General Shaack and under the val- 
iant Count of Guldenlew ! ” 

“ But you don’t know,” Randmer interrupted, “ that the 
bandits have a great fellow for a leader, a giant as strong 
and savage as Goliath ; a brigand, who drinks nothing but 
human blood ; a demon, quite the equal of old Satan ? ” 

“ Who is he ? ” the other asked. 

“ Why, the famous Hans of Iceland ! ” 

“ Brrr ! I’ll bet this famous general doesn’t even know how 
to make ready with a musket in four movements, or load an 
imperial carbine ! ” Randmer broke forth in uncontrollable 
laughter. “ Oh, laugh away,” the captain went on. “ It will 
be great sport, of course, to cross swords with pickaxes and 
lances with dung-forks ! Worthy foes, these are ; my good 
Drake would not have deigned to bite their legs ! ” 

The captain was proceeding with his energetic expressions 
of wrath, when he was interrupted by the arrival of an officer, 
who ran up to him, all out of breath. 

“ Captain Lory ! My dear Randmer ! ” 

“ Well ? ” they both replied together. 

“ My friends, I am frozen with horror ! Ahlefeld, Lieuten- 
ant Ahlefeld, the son of the grand chancellor, — you knew 


278 


HANS OF ICELAND . 


him, my dear Baron Bandmer, — Frederic the dandy, the 
fop ! ” 

“ Yes,” the young baron responded ; “ a great dandy ! How- 
ever, at the last ball at Charlottenburg my costume made 
more of a sensation than his. But what has happened to 
him ? ” 

“ I know whom you are speaking of,” Lory interposed ; 
“ Frederic Ahlefeld, lieutenant in the third company, which 
has blue lapels. He’s rather negligent of his duties.” 

“ There won’t be any more complaints about him, Captain 
Lory.” 

“ How’s that ? ” said Bandmer. 

“ He’s in garrison at Wahlstrom,” the old captain went on 
coldly. 

“ Exactly,” said the other; “ the colonel has just received 
a message. Poor Frederic ! ” 

“ But tell us what it is, Captain Bollar ; you frighten me.” 

“ Brrr ! ” old Lory went on, “ the fop missed roll-call, as he 
often does, and his captain has put the grand chancellor’s son 
in the guard-house. That, no doubt, is the misfortune that 
has disturbed you so much.” 

“ Captain Lory,” said Bollar, tapping the other on the 
shoulder, “ Lieutenant Ahlefeld has been eaten alive ! ” 

The two captains stared solemnly at one another ; and 
Bandmer, recovering from his momentary astonishment, broke 
once more into hearty laughter. 

u Ha, ha, Captain Bollar, you must always have your joke ; 
but you can’t take me in this time, I promise you ! ” 

The lieutenant folded his arms, and gave free scope to his 
mirth, swearing that what amused him most was the credu- 
lity with which Lory had accepted Bollar’s little story. The 
story itself, he said, was really quite droll ; and it was a most 
diverting idea to think that Frederic, who had always been so 
absurdly particular about his complexion, had been devoured 
raw. 

“ Bandmer,” said Bollar seriously, “ you are a fool. I tell 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


279 


you that Ahlefeld is dead. I got it from, the colonel, — 
dead ! ” 

“ Oh, how well he plays his part,” the baron responded, 
still laughing ; “ how amusing he is ! ” 

Bollar shrugged his shoulders, and turned to old Lory, who 
calmly asked him for particulars. 

“ Yes, really, my dear Captain Bollar,” the lieutenant 
added, still laughing, “tell us in what way the poor chap 
was eaten. Did a wolf breakfast on him, or a bear have him 
for supper ? ” 

“ The colonel,” said Bollar, “ has just received a despatch, 
informing him in the first place that the Wahlstrom garrison 
is falling back upon us, before a considerable force of insur- 
gents.” Old Lory frowned. “ And secondly,” Bollar went 
on, “that Lieutenant Frederic Ahlefeld went hunting three 
days ago in the mountains, near Arbar ruins, and there fell in 
with a monster, who carried him into a cave and devoured 
him.” 

At this point Lieutenant Randmer’ s hilarity became wholly 
irrepressible. 

“ Ha, ha, how our good Lory takes in these fairy tales ! 
That’s right; look as serious as you can, my dear Bollar. 
You are admirably droll. You don’t tell us, though, what 
sort of a monster or ogre or vampire it was that carried off 
the lieutenant and made way with him, as if he had been a 
six days’ kid ? ” 

“ I won’t tell you,” Bollar muttered impatiently ; “ but I’ll 
tell Lory, who is not so absurdly incredulous. My dear Lory, 
the monster that drank Frederic’s blood was Hans of Ice- 
land.” 

“ The leader of the brigands ! ” the old officer exclaimed. 

“ Well, my good Lory,” said the jovial Randmer, “ must 
one know the imperial drill to make such use as that of one’s 
jaws ? ” 

“ Baron Randmer,” said Bollar, “ you are a good deal like 
Ahlefeld ; take care that you don’t meet with the same fate.” 


280 


HANS OF ICELAND, 


“I declare once more,” the young man exclaimed, “that 
the most amusing thing about this business is Captain Bollar’s 
imperturbability.” 

“And what alarms me most,” Bollar replied, “is the un- 
quenchable gayety of Lieutenant Bandmer.” 

At this moment a group of officers, engaged in lively con- 
versation, came up to the three whose utterances have been 
reported. 

“By Jove,” Bandmer exclaimed, “I must entertain them 
with Bollar’s romance ! Comrades,” he added, “ are you 
aware that poor Frederic Ahlefeld has been crunched alive 
by that barbarous Hans of Iceland ? ” 

With this he gave vent to another outburst of laughter, 
which to his great surprise was received by the newcomers 
with shouts of indignation. 

“ What ? You laugh ! I didn’t suppose that Bandmer 
would repeat such news in such a way. To laugh at such 
a misfortune ! ” 

“ What,” said Bandmer uneasily, “ can it possibly be true ? ” 

“Why, you told us so yourself!” every one exclaimed. 
“ Don’t you have any faith in your own words ? ” 

“But I thought it was one of Bollar’s jokes.” 

“If it had been a joke, it would have been in very bad 
taste,” said one of the older officers ; “ but unfortunately it 
is not a joke. Our colonel, Baron Vœthaün, has just received 
the fatal tidings.” 

“ What a horrible thing ! It is terrible ! ” were the ex- 
clamations heard on every side. 

“We shall be obliged, then,” said one, “to fight wolves 
and bears that have human faces ! ” 

“We shall be shot at,” said another, “without knowing 
the position of the enemy ; we shall be killed, one by one, 
like pheasants in a battue.” 

“Ahlef eld’s death makes one shudder,” said Bollar, in a 
solemn tone. “Our regiment is unfortunate. Dispolsen’s 
death, the fate of the three soldiers at Cascadthymore, and 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


281 


now Ahlefeld, — three tragic incidents in a very short space 
of time.” 

Young Baron B-andmer, who had been silent for a while, 
roused himself from his revery. 

“ ’Tis incredible/’ he said, “ Frederic was such a good 
dancer ! ” 

After this profound observation, he relapsed again into 
silence, while Captain Lory declared that he was greatly up- 
set at the young lieutenant’s death ; and he informed Toric 
Belfast, the second arquebusier, that the metal trimmings of 
his crossbelt were not polished with their customary degree 
of brilliancy. 


282 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


CHAPTEB XXXI. 


“ Hush, hush ; a man is coming down from up there on a ladder ! ” 


“ Oh, yes; it’s a spy.” 

“ Heaven could accord me no greater favor than by giving me the power to 
deliver you — my life. I’m at your service; hut tell me, I beg of you, 
who commands this army.” 

“ The Count of Barcelona.” 

“ What count? ” 


“ Well, what is it? ” 

“^)ne of the enemy’s spies, general.” 

“Where do you come from ? ” 

“ I came here, not knowing in the least what I should find; what I see is 
very unexpected.” 

Lope de Y ega : La Fuerza Lastimosa. 


There is something sinister and desolate in the appearance 
of a flat, unwooded country, when the sun has set, and when 
one is walking alone through fields of dry stubble, as the 
cricket chirps monotonously, and great formless masses of 
cloud hang along the horizon like motionless spectres. 

Such was the impression that Ordener received, in his mel- 
ancholy meditations on the night after his futile encounter 
with the Iceland brigand. Dumbfounded for a moment by the 
sudden disappearance of the foe, he had thought first of going 
in pursuit ; but he lost his way in the heather, and he wandered 
all day through a territory which continually became more 
wild and unproductive, without meeting with any trace of 
man. At nightfall he found himself in the midst of a great 
plain, with an open horizon all about him, and with no pros- 
pect of shelter, although the young traveller was exhausted 
with fatigue and the need of food. 

All would still have been endurable, if his bodily sufferings 


BANS OF ICELAND. 


283 


had not been aggravated by the sorrow that filled his soul. 
He had come to the end of his journey without accomplishing 
the object that he had in view. Even the airy illusions of 
hope, that had drawn him in pursuit of the brigand, had van- 
ished ; and now nothing remained to sustain a heart weighed 
down with a multitude of discouraging thoughts that had sud- 
denly come upon him. What should he do ? How could he 
go back to Schumacker, unless he could carry the means of 
Ethel’s safety ? How terrible were the evils that would have 
been obviated, if he had been able to get possession of the ill- 
omened casket ! And his marriage with Ulrica Ahlefeld ! If 
he could at least deliver Ethel from her undeserved captivity ; 
if he could only fly with her to happiness in some far-off 
exile ! 

He wrapped his cloak about him, and lay down upon the 
ground. The sky was black, a stormy break in the clouds 
now and then only making more oppressive the darkness, 
which was like that of a funeral pall ; and a cold wind blew 
over the plain. The young man gave but little heed to the 
signs of a violent and approaching tempest; and even if he 
had been able to discover an asylum where he might take 
refuge from the storm and rest from his fatigue, how would 
he have been able to escape from his misfortune, and gain 
immunity from his thoughts ? 

All at once a confused medley of human voices came to his 
ear. He raised himself on his elbow in his surprise, and saw, 
some distance away, what looked like shadows moving about 
in the obscurity. He looked more closely, and saw a light, 
surrounded by a mysterious group; and as he continued to 
gaze he was astonished to see the phantasmal figures drop, 
one after the other, into the earth. They all disappeared. 

Ordener was above the superstitions of his time and his 
country. His serious and well-trained mind disdained the 
empty credulity and fantastic terror that torment the infancy 
of peoples, as they do the infancy of men. There was, how- 
ever, in the strange appearances he had witnessed, something 


284 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


so unnatural that it inspired awe in spite of reason, for no one 
knows if the spirits of the dead do not sometimes come back 
to earth. 

He arose, making the sign of the cross, and went toward 
the place where the shadows had disappeared. Great drops 
of rain had begun to fall, his cloak was blown out like a sail, 
and the plume on his cap, vibrating in the wind, struck against 
his face. He paused suddenly. A flash of lightning revealed, 
a few paces in front of him, a large, well-shaped opening, into 
which he would inevitably have fallen if it had not been for 
the illumination from the clouds. He drew near the opening. 
Down below, at a terrifying depth, a light was dimly shining ; 
and it cast a reddish tint over the lower portion of the great 
cylinder, hollowed out in the bowels of the earth. This dis- 
tant glow, which looked as if it might come from a magic fire 
lighted by gnomes, seemed to magnify the immeasurable stretch 
of darkness which the eye was obliged to traverse in order to 
reach it. 

The intrepid young man leaned over the abyss and listened. 
A distant sound of voices came to his ear. He felt convinced 
now that the creatures who had so strangly appeared and dis- 
appeared before his eyes had gone down into this orifice ; and 
he felt an irresistible desire, probably because he was so in- 
spired by destiny, to go down after them, even if he were fol- 
lowing spectres into one of the mouths of hell. Moreover, the 
tempest had burst in all its fury, and the shaft would provide 
him with convenient shelter. But how was he to get down ? 
What method had been taken by those whom he wished to 
follow, if they had not really been phantoms ? A second 
flash of lightning came to his assistance, and revealed at his 
feet the upper portion of a ladder, which extended into the 
depths. It was made of a strong, upright beam, -pierced hori- 
zontally at intervals with short iron bars, for the support of 
the feet and hands of those adventurous enough to enter. 

Ordener did not hesitate. He was soon hanging from the 
rude ladder, and descending into the depths, without knowing 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


285 


whether he would be able to get safely to the bottom, or 
whether he would ever again look upon the sun. The dark- 
ness over his head soon became so dense that he could only 
distinguish the sky by the bluish flashes of lightning with 
which it was frequently illuminated. N After a little, the 
heavy rain that beat upon the surface of the ground came 
to him only as a fine, misty spray. The blasts of wind that 
swept impetuously over the opening he heard only as a dis- 
tant moaning. Down and down he went, and seemed to be 
no nearer to the subterranean light. He went on, however, 
unfalteringly, taking the simple precaution not to look into 
the depths below, for fear that he might be seized with giddi- 
ness and fall. 

The air became more and more heavy, the sound of voices 
more and more distinct; and the purplish reflections, which 
began to color the circular walls of the shaft, warned him 
that he was not far from the bottom. He went down a few 
more steps ; and he then could clearly distinguish, at the 
bottom of the ladder, the entrance to a subterranean cham- 
ber, which was lit up with a wavering, reddish light, while 
his attention was arrested by a conversation that was going 
forward. 

“Kennybol does not come,” said one voice impatiently. 
“ What can be keeping him ? ” the same voice added, after a 
moment of silence. 

“ Impossible to say, master Hacket,” was the response. 

“ He was to pass the night at his sister’s, Maase Braal’s, at 
Surb village,” added another voice. 

“ You can bear me witness,” said the first speaker, “ that I 
keep to my agreement. I was to bring Hans of Iceland as 
your leader, and I have brought him.” 

A murmur, the import of which could not be readily 
guessed, followed these words. The curiosity with which 
Ordener had been filled at hearing Kennybol’s name was in- 
creased when he heard them speaking of Hans of Iceland. 

“My friends, — Jonas, and you, Norbith, — if Kennybol is 


286 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


late, what does it matter ? Our numbers are great enough 
now to be equal to anything. Did you find the banners at 
Crag ruins ? ” 

“ Yes, master Hacket,” several voices responded. 

“ Well, raise the standard ; it is full time. Here is gold ; 
here is your invincible leader. Courage; march to the de- 
liverance of the noble Schumacker, the unfortunate Count of 
Griffenfeld !” 

“ Long live Schumacker ! ” a host of voices repeated, and 
the name echoed and re-echoed in those subterranean depths. 

Ordener listened with continually increasing curiosity and 
astonishment, scarcely daring to breathe. He could neither 
believe nor understand what he heard. Schumacker mixed 
up with Kennybol and Hans of Iceland! What was this 
dark drama, of which he, as an unknown spectator, was over- 
looking a disconnected scene ? Whom were they seeking to 
protect ? Whose head was in peril ? 

“ Listen,” the same voice went on ; “ I am the friend and 
confidant of the noble Count of Griffenfeld.” The voice was 
new to Ordener. It went on : “ Give me your confidence, 
as I give you mine. Friends, everything is in your favor ; 
you will reach Drontheim without opposition.” 

“ Master Hacket,” a voice interrupted, “ let us start. Peters 
tells me that he saw the whole Munckholm regiment in the 
mountain passes, marching against us.” 

“ He deceived you,” the other responded, in an authoritative 
tone. u The government is not yet aAvare of the uprising ; 
and it is so little suspicious of any disturbance that your op- 
pressor and the oppressor of the illustrious Schumacker — I 
mean General Levin de Knud, who rejected your just peti- 
tion — has left Drontheim for the capital, to take part in the 
festivities attending the marriage of his ward, Ordener Gul- 
denlew, with Ulrica Ahlefeld.” 

The emotions felt by Ordener can be imagined, at hearing 
the names of people in whom he was interested, and even his 
own name, spoken by unknown persons, in a mysterious 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


287 


cavern, in this wild and deserted country. A dreadful doubt 
sprang to life in his heart. Could it be true ? Could this 
really be Count Griffenfeld’s agent who had been speaking ? 
What, Schumacker, that venerable old man, the noble father 
of his noble Ethel, in revolt against his king and royal master, 
suborning brigands, and lighting the flames of civil war ; and 
for this hypocrite and rebel, he, Ordener, son of the viceroy 
of Norway and ward of General Levin, had compromised his 
future and ventured his life ! For him he had hunted down 
and fought the Iceland brigand, with whom Schumacker 
seemed to be on confidential terms, since the monster had 
been put in leadership of the bandits ! Who could say, — 
perhaps even the casket for which he, Ordener, had been on 
the point of shedding his blood, contained some of the infa- 
mous details of the odious plot ? Or perhaps the vindictive 
Munckholm prisoner had been making sport of him ! Per- 
haps he had discovered the name of his would-be defender, 
and perhaps, — how agonizing was this thought to the mag- 
nanimous young man — perhaps he had been encouraged to 
pursue his hazardous venture because he was the son of an 
enemy ! 

Alas, when one has long venerated and loved the name of a 
victim of misfortune, when in one’s secret thoughts one has 
vowed unswerving fidelity to a being in adversity, it is a bit- 
ter moment when one finds one’s self met with ingratitude, 
feels that generosity has been misplaced, and realizes that the 
sweet and noble happiness of self-devotion has come to noth- 
ing ! At such a moment one grows old in the saddest of all 
possible ways — one becomes old in experience, and one loses 
the most beautiful of all the illusions of Jife ; and in life 
nothing is beautiful but its illusions. 

Such were the desolating thoughts that pressed confusedly 
upon Ordener’ s soul. At that ill-fated moment the noble 
young man would have been glad to die ; it seemed to him 
that all possibilities of happiness had forsaken him. In the 
assertions of him who claimed to speak as Griffenfeld’s envoy 


288 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


there were, to be sure, some points that seemed mendacious or 
of doubftul import ; but as they had been designed to deceive 
the ignorant peasantry, Schumacker was only the more culpa- 
ble, — and Schumacker was Ethel’s father ! 

These agitating thoughts were all the more torturing be- 
cause they came upon him all at once. He trembled as he 
clung to the iron bars and continued to listen, for one some- 
times dwells with inexplicable impatience and irresistible 
avidity upon misfortunes which one dreads the most. 

“ Yes,” the envoy’s voice went on, “ you are under the 
leadership of the dreaded Hans of Iceland. Who will dare to 
withstand you ? Your cause is that of your women and your 
children, despoiled undeservedly of their dues ; and of a suf- 
fering nobleman, who for twenty years has been immured un- 
justly in an infamous prison. March, then ; Schumacker and 
liberty await you ! Heath to tyrants ! ” 

“ Heath ! ” responded a thousand voices ; and in the recesses 
of the subterranean chamber the clash of arms mingled with 
the hoarse notes of the mountain horn. 

“ Stop ! ” Ordener shouted. He had quickly clambered 
down to the foot of the ladder, his heart swayed by the impe- 
rious desire of saving Schumacker from crime and his country 
from misfortune. But, as he came to the entrance of the 
underground chamber, hope gave place to fear that his impru- 
dent interruption might imperil the safety of Ethel’s father 
and perhaps of Ethel herself ; so he stood there, with pallid 
face, casting an astonished glance over the extraordinary spec- 
tacle that confronted him. 

He looked upon what seemed like a great public square 
in a subterranean town, that seemed to stretch away indefi- 
nitely behind the clustering pillars that upheld the arches. 
The pillars gleamed like crystal pilasters, in the light of a 
thousand torches, carried by a multitude of grotesquely armed 
men, who stood, without any semblance of order, in the place 
where they had gathered. The multitudinous points of light, 
and the spectral figures moving about in the darkness, gave 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


289 


the impression of a fabulous assembly, such as the old chroni- 
clers describe, where sorcerers and demons carry stars to 
light their way by night among the primeval woods and over 
crumbling castles. 

A great cry went up, “ A stranger ! Death ! Death ! ” A 
hundred arms rose threateningly against Ordener, who put 
his hand to his side in search of his sword. Noble young 
man, in his generous enthusiasm he had forgotten he was 
alone and unarmed. 

“ Wait, wait ! ” a voice exclaimed, and Ordener recognized 
it as that of Schumacker’s envoy. A short, stout man, dressed 
in black, with an expression of assumed geniality, came up 
to Ordener. “ Who are you ? ” he asked. 

Ordener did not reply ; he was beset on every side, and 
there was not a spot upon his breast that was not covered 
by a sword-point or a pistol-muzzle. 

“ Are you afraid ? ” the short man inquired, with a smile. 

“ If your hand were upon my heart, where these sword- 
points are,” the young man said coolly, “ you would find 
that it beats no more quickly than your own, — taking it for 
granted that you have a heart.” 

“ Oho,” said the short man, “ he is trying to be haughty ! 
Well, let him die ! ” And he turned his back. 

“ Death let it be,” Ordener replied ; “ I wish to owe noth- 
ing more to you.” 

“One instant, master Hacket,” said an old man with 
shaggy beard, leaning on a long musket-barrel. “ You are 
on my premises here, and I alone have the right to despatch 
this Christian as a messenger to the shades.” 

“ Upon my word, my dear Jonas,” said master Hacket, 
with a laugh, “do as you please. It makes no difference 
to me whether the spy is tried before you, as long as he is 
condemned.” 

“ Well,” said the old man, looking at Ordener, “ tell us 
who you are, since you have been bold enough to try to find 
out who we are,” 


290 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


Ordener kept silence. Surrounded by this strange assem- 
bly of Schumacher’s partisans, and realizing how ready he 
had been to give his life for the old prisoner, he felt at this 
moment nothing but an infinite desire for death. 

“ His excellency does not deign to reply,” said the old man. 
“ When the fox is taken, he makes no sound. Kill him.” 

“My brave Jonas,” Hacket interposed, “let this man’s 
death be the first exploit of Hans of Iceland in your company.” 

“ Yes, yes ! ” many voices shouted. 

The astonished but still intrepid Ordener looked about for 
Hans of Iceland, with whom he had so valiantly fought on 
that very morning ; and with increased surprise he saw ap- 
proaching him a man of colossal stature, clad in the garb of a 
mountaineer. The giant looked at Ordener with dull ferocity, 
and called for an axe. 

“ You’re not Hans of Iceland,” said Ordener sternly. 

“ Kill him, kill him ! ” Hacket shouted furiously. 

Ordener saw that he must die. He put his hand to his 
breast to take out the lock of Ethel’s hair, and give it one last 
kiss. As he made this movement, a paper fell from his belt. 

“What is that paper?” said Hacket; “Norbith, pick up 
that paper.” 

Norbith was a young man, whose swarthy, imperturbable 
face had an expression of nobility. He picked up the paper 
and unfolded it. 

“ Great God,” he exclaimed, “ it is a passport, signed by my 
poor friend, Christo phorus Nedlam, my unfortunate comrade, 
who was executed in Skongen market-place a week ago as a 
counterfeiter.” 

“Well,” said Hacket, in a tone expressive of disappoint- 
ment, “ keep the bit of paper. I thought it more important. 
Now, my dear Hans of Iceland, do your duty.” 

“ This man is under my protection,” said young Norbith, 
putting himself in front of Ordener. “My head shall fall 
before a hair of his is touched. I cannot suffer a passport, 
signed by my friend Christophorus Nedlam, to be violated,” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


291 


Ordener, finding himself so miraculously protected, bowed 
his head in humiliation, for he remembered how disdainfully 
he had received the solicitous blessing extended by the chap- 
lain, Athanasius Munder, — 

“May the dying man’s gift be of service to the travel- 
ler ! ” 

“ Bah,” said Hacket, “ you are talking nonsense, my good 
Norbith ! The man is a spy ; he must be put to death.” 

“ Give me my axe,” the giant repeated. 

“He shall not die!” cried Norbith. “What would the 
spirit of poor Nedlam say, he who was so unjustly hanged ? 
I tell you, he must not die, for Nedlam is not willing ! ” 

“Good,” said old Jonas, “Norbith is right. Why do you 
want the stranger to be killed, master Hacket, when he has 
Christophorus Nedlam’s pass ? ” 

“ But he is a spy, he is a spy ! ” said Hacket. 

The old man took his place by the younger man, in front of 
H Ordener, and both said earnestly, — 

“He has a pass from Christophorus Nedlam, who was 
hanged at Skongen.” 

Hacket saw that he must give in ; for the rest of the com- 
pany began to mutter among themselves that the stranger 
should not be put to death, since he had a passport from 
Nedlam, the counterfeiter. 

“Very well,” he said between his teeth, with repressed 
fury ; “ let him live, then. Anyhow, it’s your own affair.” 

“If it were the devil himself, I would not have him 
killed,” said Norbith triumphantly ; and saying this, he 
turned to Ordener, and added : “ Listen ; you ought to be a 
worthy comrade, since you have a passport from my good 
friend, Nedlam. We are loyal miners, and we are in revolt 
to deliver ourselves from guardianship. Master Hacket, 
whom you see there, says that we are taking up arms for a 
certain Count Schumacker, but I know nothing about him. 
Stranger, our cause is just. Listen, and answer as you would 
answer your patron saint, — will you be with us ? ” 


292 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ Yes,” responded Ordener, as a thought suddenly came 
into his mind. 

“ Brother,” said the young leader, handing a sword, which 
the other received in silence, “if you wish to betray us, you 
will begin by killing me.” 

At this moment the blast of a horn echoed through the 
mine, and distant voices shouted, “ Here is Kennybol ! ” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


293 


CHAPTER XXXII. 


There are thoughts in the head that touch the skies. — Spanish Romances. 


The mind sometimes has sudden inspirations, unexpected 
revelations, that have a sweep beyond the reach of studied 
reflection, and that penetrate like a flash of lightning to 
depths which in the radiance of a thousand torches would 
only seem more obscure. 

We shall therefore make no attempt here to analyze the 
imperious and hidden impulse which induced the noble son of 
Norway’s viceroy to throw in his lot, at young Norbith’s prop- 
osition, with the bandits who were in revolt in behalf of a 
state prisoner. It arose, no doubt, partly from a generous 
desire to get at all hazards to the bottom of this mysterious 
adventure, and partly from bitter disgust with life and reck- 
less despair of the future. Perhaps an ill-defined doubt of 
Schumacker’s guilt, aroused by the uncertainty of what he 
had seen and heard, impressed the young man with an in- 
stinctive recognition of the truth; and, more than all, one 
must not forget his love for Ethel. In any case, it was cer- 
tainly an unconscious perception of the good that might be 
accomplished by a clear-sighted friend to Schumacker, among 
these blinded partisans. 


294 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

Is yonder man the leader ? His very glance terrifies me. I should not 

dare speak to him. — Maturin: Bertram. 

When the shouts arose announcing the approach of Kenny- 
bol, the famous hunter, Hacket hastened to meet him, leaving 
Ordener with the two other chiefs. 

“ Here you are, at last, Kennybol ! Come, and let me pre- 
sent you to our noble leader, Hans of Iceland.” 

Hearing that name, Kennybol, who came up pallid and 
breathing hurriedly, with dishevelled hair, face covered with 
sweat, and hands stained with blood, recoiled a step or two. 

“ Hans of Iceland ! ” 

“Well,” said Hackett, “ don’t be alarmed; he is here in 
your behalf. Look upon him only as a friend, a companion.” 

“ Hans of Iceland here ! ” Kennybol repeated, paying no 
attention to what the other was saying. 

“ Why, yes,” said Hackett, repressing a sardonic smile ; 
“ are you going to be afraid of him ? ” 

“ What,” the hunter interposed for the third time, “ you 
are serious in telling me that Hans of Iceland is here in the 
mine ? ” 

“ Has our good Kennybol gone crazy ? ” Hacket inquired, 
turning to the men about him; then, addressing himself 
directly to Kennybol, he added, “I see that ’twas fear of 
Hans of Iceland that made you so late.” 

“ By Etheldera, the martyred saint of Norway,” said 
Kennybol, raising his hand toward heaven, “it was not fear 
of Hans of Iceland, master Hacket, I swear it to you, but 
Hans of Iceland himself, that prevented me from getting here 
sooner.” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


295 


These words were followed by a murmur of astonishment 
from the group of mountaineers and miners surrounding the 
two speakers, and they brought to Hackees brow a frown like 
that which had appeared a moment before at the appearance 
and rescue of Ordener. 

u What is that you say ? ” Hacket demanded, dropping his 
voice. 

“ I say, master Hacket, that but for your cursed Hans of 
Iceland, I should have been here before the owls began to 
cry.” 

“ Really ! What did he do to you ? ” 

“ Oh, don’t ask me ; I only hope that my beard may turn 
as white as an ermine skin in a single day, if ever again 
while I live, — since I am so fortunate as still to be alive, — 
if ever again I am caught hunting a white bear.” 

“ What, did you come near being eaten by a bear ? ” 

“A bear,” said Kennybol, with a contemptuous shrug of 
his shoulders ; “ a frightful creature, truly ! Kennybol eaten 
by a bear ! What do you take me for, master Hacket ? ” 

“ Oh, pardon me,” said Hacket smilingly. 

"If you knew what happened to me, my worthy master,” 
the old hunter interrupted in an undertone, “ you would not 
tell me again that Hans of Iceland is here.” 

Once more Hacket seemed to be disconcerted for a moment. 
He caught Kennybol quickly by the arm, as if he feared that 
his companion might approach nearer to the place where the 
giant’s ernormous head could be seen, looming above the men 
around him. 

“ My dear Kennybol,” said Hacket very earnestly, “ tell 
me, I beg of you, what it was that made you so late. You 
can understand that at this moment every detail may be of 
great importance.” 

u That is true,” said Kennybol, after a moment’s reflection. 

Then, yielding to the reiterated demands of Hacket, he told 
how that very morning he and his six companions had tracked 
a white bear to the very verge of Walderhog grotto, without 


296 


U A NS OF ICELAND. 


observing in the ardor of the chase that they were so near 
the fateful cavern ; and how the growling of the bear, as it 
was held at bay, had summoned a little man, — a monster or 
demon, — who carried a stone axe, and had rushed upon them 
in the animal’s defence. The appearance of this diabolical 
creature, who could be none other than Hans, the Iceland 
demon, had overwhelmed the whole seven with terror. In 
the sequel, six of his unfortunate comrades had fallen victims 
to the two monsters, and Kennybol himself had only escaped 
by a hurried retreat, which had not been cut off, thanks to 
his own agility, Hans of Iceland’s fatigue, and above all to 
the protection of the ever-blessed patron saint of huntsmen, 
St. Sylvester. 

“You see, master Hacket,” he said, still trembling with 
emotion, and ornamenting his recital with the figures of 
speech peculiar to the mountains, “ you see that if I am late, 
I’m not to blame for it ; and that it is impossible that the 
Iceland demon, whom I left this morning with his bear rava- 
ging the bodies of my six hapless comrades on Walderhog 
heath, should now be here, as our friend, in Apsylcorh mine. 
I am sure that cannot be. I know what that incarnate demon 
is like now, for I have seen him ! ” 

Hacket, who had listened very attentively, then responded 
quite seriously, — 

“ My good friend Kennybol, when you speak of Hans of 
Iceland or of hell, believe nothing to be impossible. I knew 
all that you have just told me.” 

An expression of extreme astonishment and the most art- 
less credulity appeared on the weatherbeaten features of the 
mountaineer. 

“ What ? ” he said. 

“Yes,” responded Hacket, upon whose face a more dis- 
cerning observer might perhaps have perceived the manifesta- 
tion of sarcastic triumph, “ yes, I knew everything, except 
that you were the hero of that tragic adventure. Hans of 
Iceland told me about it, as we came here together.” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


297 


“ Really ? ” said Kennybol ; and the glance he bestowed on 
Hacket seemed to indicate both fear and respect. 

“ Yes, indeed,” Hacket went on imperturbably ; “ but now 
be reassured ; Fm going to take you to the dreaded Hans.” 

Kennybol uttered a cry of terror. “ Be reassured, I tell 
you,” Hacket went on. “ Regard him as your leader and 
your comrade, but take care not to remind him in any way 
of what took place this morning. You understand ? ” 

He had to give in, but it was not without extreme repug- 
nance that he consented to be taken to the demon. They 
approached the group where Ordener, Jonas, and Norbith 
were standing. 

“ My good Jonas, and you, my dear Korbith, may God 
guard you ! ” said Kennybol. 

“We have need of it, Kennybol,” said Jonas. 

At that moment, Kennybol’s eye was caught by Ordener’s 
inquiring glance. 

“ Ah, here you are, young man,” he said, going quickly up 
to him, and putting out his rough and wrinkled hand; “you 
are welcome ! Your bravery, it appears, has met with good 
success ? ” 

Ordener did not understand in the least -what the moun- 
taineer was driving at, and wanted to ask for an explanation, 
when Norbith exclaimed, — 

“ So you know this stranger, Kennybol ? ” 

“ Yes, by my guardian angel ! I love him and esteem him ; 
he is devoted, heart and soul, to the good cause we are striv- 
ing for.” 

He cast a second confidential glance at Ordener; and the 
latter was again about to respond, when Hacket, who had 
gone .in search of the giant, whom the bandits seemed to 
avoid in fear, approached the four and said, — 

“Kennybol, my worthy hunter, here is your leader, the 
famous Hans of Klipstadur.” 

Kennybol looked at the gigantic brigand with more sur- 
prise than fear, and leaning toward Hacket, said, — 


298 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“Master Hacket, the Hans of Iceland I left at Walderhog 
this morning was a little man.” 

“You forget, Kennybol,” Hacket responded in a whisper, 
— “a demon ! ” 

“ Of course,” said the credulous hunter, “ he has changed 
his shape.” 

And he turned away, all of a tremble, that he might cross 
himself unseen. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


299 


CHAPTER XXXIY. 

The mask draws near; ’tis Angelo himself. The rogue understands his 

part well, — he must he quite sure of his facts. — Lessing. 

In a gloomy wood of ancient oaks, where the pale light 
of morning scarcely penetrates, a man of small stature ap- 
proaches another, who is alone, and seems to be waiting for 
him. The following interview goes forward in an under- 
tone. 

“ I beg your grace to pardon me for being so late. Various 
matters have detained me.” 

“ Such as ? ” — 

“Kennybol, the mountaineer leader, did not get to the 
place of meeting till midnight ; and we were, moreover, 
annoyed by the appearance of an unexpected witness.” 

“ Who was it ? ” 

“ A man who rushed into the mine like a lunatic, in the 
very midst of our Sanhedrim. I thought at first that he was 
a spy, and was going to have him put out of the way ; but it 
turned out that he carried a passport from some gallows-bird, 
greatly respected by the miners, and they took him under 
their protection. I believe, now that I have thought the 
matter over, that it was only an inquisitive traveller, after 
all, or some idiotic pedagogue. At any rate, I have taken 
measures to keep him harmless.” 

“ Everything is going on smoothly, then ? ” 

“ Entirely so. The Guldbranshal and Faroe miners, under 
the lead of young Norbith and old Jonas, and the Kole 
mountaineers, commanded by Kennybol, ought to be on the 
march at this moment. They will be joined four miles from 
Blue Star by their colleagues from Hubfallo and Sund-Moër ; 


300 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


and a few miles farther on the Kongsberg fellows and the 
Smiasen iron-workers, who, as you know, drove back the 
Wahlstrom garrison, are now in waiting. These various com- 
panies, my dear and honored master, will unite and camp for 
the night two miles from Skongen, in the Black Column 
pass.” 

“ But how did they receive your Hans of Iceland ? ” 

“With perfect credulity.” 

“ AVhat would I not give if I had been able to avenge my 
son’s death upon that monster ! What a misfortune that he 
should escape us ! ” 

“ My noble lord, use Hans of Iceland’s name first to avenge 
yourself on Schumacker, — later on, you will find some means 
to punish Hans himself. The insurgents will be on the 
march all day, and will pass the night in Black Column pass, 
two miles from Skongen.” 

“ What ! You allow so large a force to get so near to Skon- 
gen, Musdœmon ? ” 

“ Can you doubt my purpose, noble count ? Let your grace 
deign at once to send a messenger to Colonel Vœthaün, whose 
regiment should now be at Skongen, informing him that the 
whole insurgent force will be camped to-night, unsuspicious of 
attack, in the Black Column pass, which is an admirable place 
for ambuscades.” 

“ I understand ; but why, my dear fellow, did you arrange 
things so as to have the rebels so numerous ? ” 

“ The more formidable the insurrection, my lord, the worse 
will be Schumacker’s crime, and the greater your glory. 
Moreover, it is necessary that the affair be crushed at a single 
blow.” 

“ Very good ; but why is the halting-place so near to Skon- 
gen ? ” 

“ Because it is the only place in the mountains where de- 
fence is impossible. The only ones who will come out of that 
ravine will be those who are to appear before the tribunals.” 

“ Admirable ! Something tells me, Musdœmon, to bring 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


301 


the affair promptly to an issue. All goes well here, but else- 
where the outlook is disquieting. You know we have had a 
search made at Copenhagen for the papers that must have 
come into the possession of Dispolsen ? ” 

“ Well, my lord ? ” 

“ Well, I learned but a moment ago that the meddlesome 
fellow had mysterious relations with that cursed astrologer, 
Cumbysulsun.” 

“ The one that died the other day ? ” 

“ Yes ; and that the old sorcerer before his death turned over 
some papers to Schumacker’s agent.” 

“ Damnation — there were some letters of mine explaining 
our plan ! ” 

“ Your plan, Musdœmon ! ” 

A thousand pardons, noble count ! But why did your 
grace also put yourself at the mercy of Cumbysulsun, that old 
charlatan and traitor ? ” 

“ Listen, Musdœmon ; I am not like you, a creature wholly 
devoid of faith. ’Tis not without adequate reason, my dear 
fellow, that I have always put confidence in old Cumbysulsun’s 
magical knowledge.” 

“ Would that your grace had felt doubts of his fidelity pro- 
portionate to your confidence in his learning ! However, we 
need not disturb ourselves, my noble master. Dispolsen is 
dead, and his papers are lost ; and in a few days more we shall 
have no further trouble from the people to whom they could 
be of service.” 

“ In any case, what accusation could be brought against 
me ?” 

“ Or against me, thanks to your grace’s protection ? ” 

“ Ah, yes, my dear fellow ; you can of course count upon 
me. But let us hasten, I beg of you, to the end of this affair. 
I shall at once send the messenger to the colonel. Come, my 
attendants are waiting for me behind that thicket ; and we must 
be on the road to Drontheim, for the Mecklemburger has prob- 
ably left by now. Well, continue to serve me faithfully, and, 


302 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


in spite of all the Cumbysulsuns and Dispolsens on earth, you 
can count on me in life and death. ” 

“ I beg your grace to believe — the devil ! ” 

At this they both disappeared in the woods, and the sound 
of their voices gradually dwindled to silence. Shortly after, 
nothing could be heard but the tread of two departing horses. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


303 


CHAPTER XXXV. 


Beat drums, — they come ! They have all sworn, and by the same oath, not 
to return to Castile without the imprisoned count, their lord. They have 
a stone image of him in a chariot, and have resolved not to turn back till 
they see the image turn of its own accord ; and, in witness that any one 
who does turn hack will be regarded as a traitor, they have all lifted 
their hands and taken their oath. 


So they go on towards Arlançon, as rapidly as the movements of the oxen 
dragging the chariot will permit, — like the sun, they pause not in their 
course. Burgos is deserted ; only the women and children still remain 
there. It is the same through the surrounding country. As they go on, 
they talk together of the horse and the falcon, and ask if they should 
deliver Castile from the tribute it pays to Leon. And before they enter 
Navarre, they meet on the frontier ... — Spanish Romances. 

While the interview that has just been reported was going 
on in the forest bordering on Smiasen, the insurgents in three 
companies left the Apsylcorh lead-mine by the main slope, 
which opened on a level with the bottom of a deep ravine. 

Ordener, in spite of his desire to go with Kennybol, had 
been placed in Norbith’s company. He could see at first only 
a long procession of torches, the light of which, dulled a 
little by the approach of dawn, was reflected from axes, pitch- 
forks, mallets, iron-pointed clubs, great hammers, pickaxes, 
crowbars, and all the rude weapons that the insurgents had 
brought from their occupations ; and mingled with them were 
other less unconventional weapons, proving the existence of 
a conspiracy, — muskets, pikes, swords, carbines, and arque- 
buses. When the sun appeared, and the light of the torches 
gave place to smoke, he could see more clearly the organiza- 
tion of this extraordinary army, which went onward in dis- 
order, with coarse songs and savage outcries, like a troop of 
Spanish wolves headed for carrion. 


804 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


It was made up of three divisions, or rather of three 
crowds. First came the Kole mountaineers, led by Kennybol, 
and clad like him in the skins of wild beasts, resembling him 
also in their wild, ferocious bearing. Then came the young 
miners, led by FTorbith, and the older ones under the com- 
mand of Jonas, with their big felt hats, their baggy trousers, 
their naked arms, and their blackened faces, staring at the 
sun with heavy eyes. Above the tumultuous assembly flut- 
tered flame-colored banners, bearing different inscriptions, 
such as, “ Long live Schumacker ! ” “ Deliver the Liberator ! ” 
“ Liberty for the Miners ! ” “ Liberty for the Count of Griffen- 
feld ! ” “ Death to Guldenlew ! ” “ Death to the Oppressors ! ” 
“ Death to Ahlefeld ! ” The rebels seemed to consider these 
banners to be more of a burden than an ornament ; and they 
passed them from hand to hand, as the standard-bearers 
became weary, or wished to enliven the songs and vocifera- 
tions of their comrades with discordant blasts from their 
horns. 

The rear guard of this extraordinary army was made up of 
ten carts, drawn by reindeer and mules, intended, no doubt, 
for the conveyance of supplies ; while the vanguard consisted 
of the giant who had been brought by Hacket, and who 
walked on alone, armed with a club and an axe. Behind 
him, at a considerable distance, the foremost ranks of Kenny- 
boFs company followed, the men keeping their eyes upon 
their diabolical leader, in order that they might not lose sight 
of the various transformations that he might be pleased to 
undergo. 

The stream of rebels descended the mountains of northern 
Drontheimhus in noisy confusion, arousing the echoes in 
the pine woods with blasts from their horns. The throng 
was soon increased by re-enforcements from Sund-Moër, Hub- 
fallo, Kongsberg, and by the troops of Smiasen iron-workers, 
who were in curious contrast with the rest of the insur- 
gents. They were tall, muscular men, armed with tongs and 
hammers, wearing great leather aprons for cuirasses, and 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


305 


having for their only ensign a tall wooden cross. They 
marched in all seriousness, keeping step with a regularity 
that was more religious than military, and their only war 
songs were biblical psalms and hymns. Their only leader 
was the cross-bearer, who went before them, unarmed. 

The mob of insurgents did not meet with a single human 
being in their progress. As they drew near, the goatherd 
drove his flock into a cavern, and the peasant deserted his 
hut; for the dweller in the plains and valleys has one su- 
preme terror, — he fears the bandit’s horn and the archer’s 
trumpet. 

Thus they made their way across the hills and through the 
forests, passing now and then a clearing ; following winding 
roads, where they saw more wild beasts’ tracks than signs of 
human footsteps ; making their way around lagoons ; and 
crossing torrents, ravines, and marshes. All these places 
were strange to Ordener; once only, as his uplifted eyes 
encountered what looked like a distant, purplish, rounded 
peak on the horizon, he leaned toward one of his rude travel- 
ling companions and inquired, — 

“ Friend, what is that elevation, down there in the south, 
at the right ? ” 

“’Tis the Vulture’s Neck on Oëlmœ cliff,” was the re- 
sponse. 

Ordener uttered a profound sigh. 


30G 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


CHAPTER, XXXVI. 


My daughter, may God guard and bless you ! — Régnier. 


Monkey, parrots, combs, and ribbons were all in readiness 
in the Countess of Ahlefeld’s apartments for the reception of 
Lieutenant Frederic. The mother had at great expense 
obtained a copy of the famous Scudéry’s latest romance. By 
her order, it had been richly rebound with clasps of silver 
fretwork; and it was placed among perfumery bottles and 
cosmetic boxes, on an elegant toilet-stand with gilded feet 
and inlaid top, with which she had furnished the boudoir 
intended for her dear child Frederic. When she had given 
her minute attention to the little maternal cares that had 
served for a moment to distract her feeling of hatred, she 
remembered that the only task now awaiting her was the 
ruin of Schumacker and Ethel. General Levin’s departure 
had left them wdiolly in her power. 

A great many things had taken place recently in Munck- 
holm donjon, concerning which she had very vague ideas. 
Who was the serf, vassal, or servant, who, according to the 
extremely ambiguous and confused representations of her son, 
had made love to the ex-chancellor’s daughter ? What were 
Baron Ordener’s relations with the Munckholm prisoners ? 
What were the reasons for Ordener’s extraordinary absence, 
at the moment when the two kingdoms were occupied with 
his approaching marriage to Ulrica Ahlefeld, whom he seemed 
to disdain ? Lastly, what had taken place between Levin de 
Knud and Schumacker? The countess found herself in a 
maze of conjecture. In order to clear up these mysterious 
problems, she finally resolved upon a visit to Munckholm, 
inspired alike by feminine curiosity and motives of enmity. 


HANS. OF ICELAND. 


307 


One afternoon, as Ethel was alone in the donjon garden, 
engaged in the oft-repeated task of inscribing certain myste- 
rious characters with the diamond in her ring on the black 
pillar of the postern gate through which Ordener had disap- 
peared, the gate itself opened. The young girl trembled ; 
this was the first time that the postern had been opened since 
it had closed upon him. A tall, pale woman, dressed in 
white, stood before her. She greeted Ethel with a smile as 
sweet as poisoned honey; and in her tranquil and complacent 
glance there was a mingling of hatred, spite, and involuntary 
admiration. Ethel looked at her with astonishment and 
almost with fear. Since her old nurse had died in her arms,, 
this was the first woman she had seen within the gloomy pre- 
cincts of Munckholm. 

“ My child,” said the stranger softly, “ you are the daugh- 
ter of the Munckholm prisoner ? ” 

Ethel involuntarily turned away. She hid a feeling of 
repulsion as her visitor confronted her, and it seemed to her 
that there was venom in the breath that accompanied that 
soft voice. 

“ My name is Ethel Schumacker,” she responded. “ My 
father says that when I was in my cradle I was made 
Countess of Tongsberg and Princess of Wollin.” 

“ Your father told you that ! ” the tall woman exclaimed, 
in a tone which she quickly repressed; and then she added, 
“you have endured many misfortunes.” 

“Misfortune received me in its iron arms when I was 
born,” the young captive responded ; “ my noble father says 
that it will never leave me till I am dead.” 

A smile passed over the stranger’s lips, although it was a 
pitying tone in which the next question was asked. 

« And you do not complain of those who have caged you 
for life in this dungeon ? You do not curse the authors of 
your misfortune?” 

“No, for fear that our malediction bring upon them suffer- 
ings as great as they have put upon us.” 


308 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ Do you know the authors of the evils you deplore ? ” 
said the woman in white, with impassive face. 

“’Tis all by the will of Heaven,” said Ethel, after a mo- 
ment’s reflection. 

“ Does your father never speak of the king ? ” 

“ The king ? I pray for him night and morning, although 
I never saw him.” 

Ethel could not understand why the stranger bit her lips 
at this response. 

“ Does your unfortunate father never speak in anger of his 
implacable enemies, General Arensdorf, Bishop Spollyson, 
and Chancellor Ahlefeld ? ” 

“ I do not know those names.” 

“ And did you never hear of Levin de Knud ? ” 

Remembrance of the scene that had taken place on the eve 
of the preceding day, between the governor of Drontheim 
and Schumacker, was too fresh in Ethel’s mind not to be 
revived at Levin’s name. 

“ Levin de Knud ? ” she said ; “ it seems to me that is 
the man for whom my father has so much esteem and even 
affection.” 

“ What ! ” exclaimed the tall woman. 

“Yes,” the young girl went on; “it was Levin de Knud 
whom my lord and father defended so energetically, day be- 
fore yesterday, against the governor of Drontheim.” 

“Against the governor of Drontheim!” said the other, 
with increased surprise. “ My child, be serious, I beg of 
you ; your own interests have brought me here. Your father 
took General Levin de Knud’s part against the governor of 
Drontheim ? ” 

“ General ? If I remember rightly, it was captain — but, 
no ; you are right. My father seemed to have as much affec- 
tion for General Levin de Knud as he had hatred for the 
governor of Drontheimhus.” 

“ This is all very mysterious,” said the tall, pale woman to 
herself, her cuviosity now fairly in a blaze. “ My dear child, 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


309 


what was it that took place between your father and the 
governor of Drontheim ? ” 

This questioning was beginning to be wearisome to poor 
Ethel, who looked earnestly at the tall woman. 

“ Am I a criminal, to be interrogated in this way ? ” 

The simple inquiry seemed to disconcert the visitor, as if 
she realized that the object of her diplomacy was about to 
escape her. She went on, however, in a voice slightly touched 
with emotion, — 

“ You would not speak to me in that way if you knew why 
and in whose behalf I come.” 

“ What,” said Ethel, “ do you come from him ? Have you 
a message from him ? ” 

A deep blush suffused her beautiful face; and her heart 
leaped into her throat, swollen with impatience and anxiety. 

“ From whom ? ” the other asked. 

The young girl checked herself, with the name of the adored 
one on her lips. She saw in the stranger’s eye a flash of som- 
bre joy, that seemed like a ray from the nethermost pit. 

“ You do not know of whom I am speaking,” she said 
sadly. 

An expression of thwarted expectation appeared for the 
second time upon the stranger’s dissembling face. 

“ My poor girl ! ” she exclaimed ; “ what can I do for you ? ” 

Ethel did not hear. Her thoughts were far away on the 
northern mountains, in pursuit of the adventurous traveller. 
Her head hung upon her breast, and her hands were clasped 
convulsively. 

“ Does your father expect to get out of this prison ? ” 

This question, twice repeated, brought Ethel to herself. 

“ Yes,” she said ; and a large tear rolled down her cheek. 

“He does, you say,” said the stranger, brightening up at 
Ethel’s response ; “ and how ? By what means ? When ? ” 

“ He expects to be released from prison when he is released 
from life.” 

The very simplicity of the young and unsophisticated heart 


310 


BANS OF ICELAND. 


sometimes has a power which all the devices of experienced 
wickedness are unable to cope with. The tall woman seemed 
to realize this fact ; for the expression of her face suddenly 
changed, and she put a cold hand on Ethel’s arm. 

“ Listen to me,” she said, in a tone that was almost sincere ; 
“have you heard that your father’s life is again threatened 
by a judicial inquiry, — that he is suspected of having stirred 
up a revolt among the northern miners ? ” 

The words “ revolt ” and “ judicial inquiry ” were without 
definite meaning to Ethel ; she lifted her great black eyes to 
the stranger’s face, and asked, — 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ That your father is a conspirator against the state, that 
his crime is on the point of discovery, and that the penalty is 
death.” 

“ Death ? Crime ? ” the poor child exclaimed. 

“ Crime and death,” said the strange woman solemnly. 

“ My father ! My noble father ! ” Ethel went on. “ Alas, 
that he who has passed his days in hearing me read the Edda 
and the Gospels should be looked upon as a conspirator ! 
What can he have done to you ? ” 

“ Don’t look at me in that way ; I tell you, once more, that 
I am far from being your enemy. Your father is suspected 
of a great crime ; I give you warning. Perhaps, instead of 
with expressions of hatred, my mission ought to be received 
with thankfulness.” 

“ Oh, pardon me, my noble lady, pardon me ! ” said Ethel, 
touched by this reproach. “Until now what human being 
have we seen who was not an enemy ? I was suspicious of 
you ; you will forgive me, will you not ? ” 

“ What, my daughter,” said the stranger, with a smile, “ is 
this the first time that you have found any friend ? ” 

A vivid blush swept over Ethel’s cheek. She hesitated a 
moment. 

“Yes; God knows the truth. We have found a friend, 
noble lady, — one only ! ” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


811 


“ One only,” the tall woman exclaimed quickly. u Tell me 
his name, I beg of you ; you don’t know how important it is. 
Your father’s safety depends upon it. Who is the friend ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” said Ethel. 

“ Is it because I wish to be of service to you, that you jest 
with me ? ” said the stranger, turning pale. “ Remember that 
your father’s life is at stake. Who is the friend of whom 
you have spoken ; tell me ? ” 

“ Heaven knows, noble lady, that all I know about him is 
his name, which is Ordener.” 

Ethel uttered these words with the hesitation that one nat- 
urally feels in speaking a cherished name before a person who 
may receive it indifferently. 

“ Ordener ! Ordener ! ” the unknown repeated, greatly 
moved, as she clutched fiercely at her white embroidered 
veil ; u and what is his father’s name ? ” she asked, in an 
agitated voice. 

“ I don’t know,” the young girl responded. “ What matter 
to me his family and his father ? He is Ordener only, and 
the most generous of men.” 

Alas, the tone in which these words were uttered revealed 
the secret of Ethel’s heart to the stranger’s scrutiny. The 
visitor assumed an air of tranquillity and composure, and put 
this question to the young girl, looking at her closely, - — 

“ Have you heard anything about the approaching marriage 
of the viceroy’s son with the daughter of the present grand 
chancellor, Ahlefeld ? ” 

The question had to be repeated, to bring back Ethel’s 
attention to a subject in which she did not seem to be in- 
terested. 

“ I believe I have,” was her only response. Her tranquillity 
and air of indifference seemed to surprise the stranger. 

u Well, what do you think of the marriage ? ” 

It was impossible to perceive the least change of expression 
in Ethel’s great eyes, as she responded, “ To tell the truth, 
nothing, except to hope that it may be a happy union.” 


312 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ Counts Guldenlew and Ahlefeld, the fathers of the affi- 
anced, are jour father’s bitterest enemies.” 

u May their children’s union be a happy one ! ” repeated 
Ethel softly. 

“ I have an idea,” the astute stranger went on. “ If your 
father’s life is in peril, you can take advantage of the mar- 
riage to obtain the intervention of the viceroy’s son.” 

“ The saints reward you for all your kindness to us, noble 
lady ; but how am I to present this petition to the viceroy’s 
son ? ” 

This speech was made with such evident good faith that 
the stranger made a gesture of astonishment. 

u What ! Do you not know him ? ” 

“ That powerful nobleman ! ” cried Ethel ; “ you forget that 
I do not know anybody outside the limits of this fortress.” 

“ There it is,” the tall woman muttered to herself ; “ what 
did that old fool of a Levin tell me ? She does not know 
him ; ” then, raising her voice, she added, “ not know him ? 
Impossible ! You must have seen the viceroy’s son, for he 
has been here.” 

“ It may be so, noble lady, but of all the men that come 
here, I have seen only one, — my Ordener.” 

“ Your Ordener ! ” the unknown interrupted. She went on, 
without seeming to observe Ethel’s blushes. “ Do you know 
a young man of noble countenance, graceful figure, serious 
and intrepid bearing ? His glance is gentle yet austere, he 
has a complexion like a young girl, and his hair is chestnut.” 

“ Oh,” cried poor Ethel, “ ’tis he, ’tis my betrothed, my 
adored Ordener ! Tell me, dear and noble lady, do you bring 
me news of him ? Where did you meet him ? He told you, 
did he not, that he deigned to love me ? He told you that he 
had my whole heart. Alas, love is all that an unfortunate pris- 
oner has in the world ! That noble friend ! ’Twas less than 
a week ago, — I can see him still, standing in his green cloak, 
beneath which beat so gentle a heart, and with the black 
plume waving so gracefully over his handsome forehead.” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


313 


She paused, for she saw the tall woman start, and turn alter- 
nately red and pale, and heard her scream aloud, — 

“Wretch, you are in love with Ordener Guldenlew, Ulrica 
Ahlefeld’s affianced, and the son of your father’s mortal 
enemy, the viceroy of Norway ! ” 

Ethel fell, swooning. 


314 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

Caupolican. Move so softly that the earth itself shall not hear the sound 
of your footsteps. Be on the alert, my friends. If we can get there 
without being overheard, the victory is yours. 

Tucapel . Thick night has fallen, and the earth is shrouded in dread obscu- 
rity. We have heard no sentinel ; we have seen no spy. 

Bingo. Forward! 

Tucapel. What do I hear? Are we discovered? 

Lope de Vega: Arauque Subdued. 

“Well, Guidon Stayper, my old comrade, do you know 
that the night breeze begins to beat the hair on my cap about 
my face quite lustily ? ” 

This was said by Kenny bol, who had taken his glance for a 
moment from the giant leading the insurgents, and had turned 
to one of the mountaineers that chance had brought beside 
him. The one who was spoken to bent his head, transferred 
the standard he was carrying from one shoulder to the other, 
and said, with a groan of weariness, — 

“ Hum ! I think, captain, that with the wind sweeping 
through the cursed Black Column pass, we shall not be quite 
as warm to-night as a fire dancing on the hearth.” 

“We’ll make such good fires that the old owls will be routed 
from their ruined palaces on the cliff-tops. I don’t like owls. 
That horrible night when I saw the fairy Ubfen, she took the 
form of an owl.” 

“ By St. Sylvester ! ” Guidon Stayper interrupted, turning 
his head, “ the wind angel is fanning us briskly ! To my way 
of thinking, Captain Kennybol, we had best set fire to the 
mountain firs. ’Twould be a fine thing to see an army warm- 
ing itself with a forest.” 

“ Heaven forbid, my dear Guidon ! Think of the roebucks 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


315 


and the gerfalcons and the pheasants ! Cook game as much 
as you like, but don’t bum it.” 

“ Captain,” said old Guidon, with a laugh, “ you are always 
the same old Kennybol, — a wolf to roebucks, a bear to wolves, 
and a buffalo to bears.” 

“ Are we far from Black Column ? ” one of the huntsmen 
inquired. 

“ Comrade,” Kennybol responded, “ we shall enter the pass 
at nightfall ; we shall be at the Four Crosses in a moment.” 

A brief silence followed, in which nothing was heard but 
the tread of many feet, the whistling of the wind, and the dis- 
tant chanting of the Smiasen iron-workers. 

“ My good Guidon Stayper,” Kennybol went on, after whis- 
tling the air of Hollo the Huntsman , “you were at Drontheim 
for a few days recently ? ” 

“ Yes, captain ; my brother, George Stayper, the fisherman, 
was ill ; and I went to take his place in the boat for a while, 
so that his poor family might not die of hunger.” 

“ And while you were at Drontheim, did you chance to see 
the prisoner, Count Schumacker, or Gleffenhen, or whatever his 
name may be ? You know, — the man in whose name we are 
revolting against the royal guardianship, and whose coat of 
arms has doubtless been embroidered on that big red banner 
you carry ? ” 

“ It’s heavy enough,” said Guidon. “ You asked about the 
prisoner at Munckholm fortress, — count what’s his name ? 
How do you suppose, my worthy captain, that I could see him ? 
I should have needed,” he added, lowering his voice, “the 
eyes of that demon who marches in front of us, — and yet he 
doesn’t seem to leave any odor of sulphur behind him, — eyes 
like Hans of Iceland, who can see through walls ; or a ring 
like Queen Mab’s, to take me through keyholes. There is 
only one with us, I am sure, who has ever seen the count, 
the prisoner that you speak of.” 

“ Only one ! Ah, yes ; master Hacket ? But Hacket is 
not with us. He left us at nightfall, to return.” 


316 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ I’m not speaking of master Hacket, captain.” 

“ Who, then ? ” 

“ The young man with the green cloak and black plume, 
who fell in on us last night.” 

« Well ? ” 

“Well,” said Guidon, drawing near to Kennybol ; “that’s 
the one that knows the count, the famous count, just as well 
as I know you, Captain Kennybol.” 

Kennybol looked at Guidon, winked with his left eye, 
snapped his teeth together, and struck his comrade on the 
shoulder, with an exclamation of pride in his own powers 
of penetration. 

“ I thought as much ! ” 

“Yes, captain,” Guidon Stayper went on, throwing the 
standard to the other shoulder ; “ I warrant you, the young 
man in green has seen the count, — I don’t know his name, 
but the one we are going to fight for, — saw him right in 
Munckholm donjon, and seemed to think no more of going into 
that prison than you or I would of walking into a royal park.” 

“ And how do you know all this, my worthy Guidon ? ” 

The old mountaineer seized Kennybol by the arm, and then 
opening his otter-skin jacket with the utmost precaution, said, 
“ Look ! ” 

_“ By my patron saint,” exclaimed Kennybol, “ it shines like 
a diamond ! ” The exclamation was not without cause, for 
Guidon Stayper’ s rough belt was fastened with a magnificent 
diamond buckle. 

“ That’s a diamond,” retorted the standard-bearer, closing 
his jacket, “just as sure as the moon is two days’ march from 
the earth, or as my belt is made of buffalo hide.” 

But an expression of astonishment and anger darkened the 
face of Kennybol. He bent his eyes to the ground, saying 
with a sort of savage solemnity, — 

“ Guidon Stayper, of Cholsœ village in the Kole mountains, 
Medprath Stayper, your father, died at one hundred and two, 
with no stain upon his name, — for ’tis no crime to kill a stag 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


317 


or elk in the king’s forest. Guidon Stayper, fifty-seven good 
years have passed over your gray head, and nothing but an owl 
can be called young at that age. Guidon Stayper, my com- 
rade, I would rather know that the diamonds in that buckle 
were millet seeds, than that you did not come justly by it, — 
as justly as the royal pheasant comes by a musket-ball.” 

The mountaineer leader delivered this strange admonition 
in a tone expressive of warning and indulgence. 

“ As truly as our Captain Kennybol is the hardiest hunter 
in Kole,” Guidon responded imperturbably, “ as truly as dia- 
monds are diamonds, these are by right my own property.” 

“ So ? ” responded Kennybol, in a tone half way between 
belief and doubt. 

11 God and my blessed patron saint know,” responded 
Guidon, “ that it was one night when I was pointing out 
Drontheim Spladgest to certain good Norwegians who were 
carrying the body of an officer who had been found on Urchtal 
sands. It was about a week ago. A young man came up to 
my boat. ‘ To Munckholm ! ’ he said. I cared but little for 
the task, captain ; ’twas too much like a bird, flying about a 
cage. However, the young lordling was haughty and proud 
in bearing, he was followed by a servant leading two horses, 
and he sprang into my boat with an air of authority. I took 
up my oars, — that is to say, my brother’s oars. My guardian 
angel willed it so ; for when we arrived, my young passenger, 
after parleying with the sergeant who was in command at the 
fort, threw me by way of payment — this is true, captain, as 
God hears me — the diamond buckle that I just showed you, 
and that would have fallen to my brother George, and not to 
me, if at the hour when the heaven-sent traveller came I had 
not finished with my service as George’s substitute. There 
you have the truth, Captain Kennybol.” 

“ Good.” 

The face of the leader gradually assumed as serene an ex- 
pression as its natural melancholy and sternness would permit 
of, and in a softened voice he asked of Guidon, — 


318 


IIANS OF ICELAND. 


“And are you sure, old comrade, that the young man you 
speak of is the same as the one now behind us, with Norbith’s 
company ? ” 

“ Sure. I could not forget, among a thousand, the face of 
one who has made my fortune ; more than that, ’tis the same 
cloak, the same black plume.” 

“I believe you, Guidon.” 

“ And it is clear that he was going to see the famous pris- 
oner, for if there had not been some great mystery he would 
not have been so liberal with the boatman who took him there ; 
and then, you must remember that he is now with us.” 

“ You are right.” 

“And I shouldn’t wonder, captain, if the young stranger 
were somewhat higher in the count’s esteem than master 
Hacket, who, it seems to me, is really no good, except to snarl 
like a wild cat.” 

“ Comrade, you have said just what I was going to say,” 
Kennybol responded, with an expressive nod. “ Throughout 
this whole affair I shall be much more desirous of obeying 
the young lord, than Hacket, the envoy. May St. Sylvester 
and St. Olaüs guard me ; for I believe, comrade Guidon, that, 
if the Iceland demon is in command, we owe it much less to 
that boastful crow, Hacket, than to the young stranger ! ” 

“ Is that so, captain ? ” Guidon asked. 

Kennybol opened his mouth to reply, when a hand fell on 
his shoulder. It was Norbith. 

“ Kennybol, we are betrayed ! Gormon Woëstrœm has jiist 
come from the south. The whole arquebusier regiment is 
marching against us. The Schleswig uhlans are at Sparbo, 
and three companies of Danish dragoons are waiting for 
horses at Loevig. All along the road he saw green coats as 
thick as bushes. Let us hurry and get to Skongen, and let v us 
not make any halt on the way. There we shall at least be 
able to defend ourselves. In addition to what I’ve told you, 
Gormon thinks he saw muskets gleaming through the under- 
growth, as he came through Black Column pass.” 


IT AN S OF ICELAND. 


819 


The young leader was pale and agitated, but the glance of 
his eye and the tone of his voice expressed courage and 
determination. 

“ Impossible ! ” exclaimed Kennybol. 

“ Absolutely certain ! ” said Norbith. 

“ But master Hacket ” — 

“ Is a traitor or a coward. You may be sure of what I tell 
you, comrade Kennybol. Where is Hacket ? ” 

At that moment old Jonas came up to the two leaders. 
From the profound discouragement expressed in his face, it 
was easy to see that he had heard the ominous tidings. The 
two old men, Jonas and Kennybol, looked at one another and 
began to shake their heads in concert. 

“ Well, Jonas ? Well, Kennybol ? ” said Norbith. 

Meanwhile the aged chieftain of the Faroe miners had 
passed his hand slowly over his wrinkled brow, and responded 
in an undertone to the inquiring glance of the mountaineer 
leader, — 

“ Yes, it is too true, — it is too certain. Gormon Woës- 
trœm saw them.” 

a If it is true,” said Kennybol, “ what shall we do ? ” 

“ What shall we do ? ” responded Jonas. 

“In my opinion, comrade Jonas, we should be wise to make 
a halt.” 

“ And wiser still, brother Kennybol, to beat a retreat.” 

“ Make a halt, beat a retreat ! ” exclaimed Norbith. “ We 
must go forward !” 

The two old men turned to the younger man with an expres- 
sion of surprise and disapproval. 

“ Go forward ! ” said Kennybol ; “ and the Munckholm 
arquebusiers ! ” 

“ And the Schleswig uhlans ! ” added Jonas. 

“ And the Danish dragoons ! ” said Kennybol. 

“ And the royal guardianship,” said Norbith, stamping 
on the ground ; “ and my mother, dying of hunger and 
cold ! ” 


320 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ By the demons, yes, — the royal guardianship ! ” said 
Jonas the miner, with an ill-concealed shudder. 

“ What of it ? ” said Kennybol, the mountaineer. 

“ My worthy comrade and valorous huntsman,” said J onas, 
taking Kennybol by the hand, “you have not the honor 
of being under the guardianship of our glorious sovereign, 
Christiern IV. May holy King Olaiis, in heaven, deliver us 
from that guardianship ! ” 

“ Ask that boon of your sword,” said Norbith ferociously. 

“ Strong words come easy from a young man, comrade 
Norbith,” responded Kennybol j “ but bear in mind that if we 
go farther, those green coats ” — 

“ I also bear in mind that it will be no good to us to re- 
treat to the mountains, like foxes before wolves, since they 
know our names and our part in the revolt. Death for death, 
I prefer a musket-ball to a gallows-rope.” 

“The devil,” said Jonas, nodding his head, in token of 
approval, “ guardianship for our brothers, and the gallows for 
us ! Norbith may very well be right.” 

“ Give me your hand, my brave Norbith,” said Kennybol ; 
“ there is danger either way. Better march straight to the 
precipice, than fall into the abyss in a retreat.” 

“Forward, then, forward !” cried old Jonas, slapping the 
pommel of his sword. 

“ Brothers, listen ! ” said Norbith, taking each by the hand. 
“ Be rash, like me ; I will be prudent, like you. We will 
make no halt to-day till we get to Skongen ; the garrison is 
weak, and we can quickly dispose of it. Let us go, since we 
must, through Black Column pass, but in perfect silence. 
We must get through, even if the enemy is in force 
there.” 

“I believe that the arquebusiers have not yet reached 
OrdaPs bridge, before Skongen ; but no matter, — silence ! ” 

“ Silence let it be,” repeated Kennybol. 

“Now, Jonas,” Norbith went on, “let us return to our 
posts. To-morrow, perhaps, we shall be at Drontheim, in 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


321 


spite of the arquebusiers, the uhlans, the dragoons, and all 
the green coats in the south country.” 

The three chieftains separated. Soon the word “ silence” 
passed from rank to rank ; and the rebel band, which a mo- 
ment before had been making the heavens ring, went on 
through the wilds, amid the gloom of nightfall, like a pro- 
cession of mute phantoms, passing noiselessly over the wind- 
ing footpaths of a graveyard. 

Meanwhile, the road that they followed was getting nar- 
rower and narrower, and led by degrees to a rocky ravine, 
the sides of which became more and more steep. At the 
moment when the reddish moon rose behind a cold mass of 
cloiids, which assumed the most grotesque shapes in their fan- 
tastic mobility, Kennybol leaned toward Guidon Stayper, — 

“ We are just entering Black Column pass. Silence ! ” 

Already they could hear the noise of the torrent, which 
follows the winding of the road between the two mountains, 
and to the south they could see the enormous oblong granite 
pyramid, called the Black Column, standing out against the 
sky and the snow-covered slopes of the surrounding peaks ; 
while to the west the misty horizon was bounded by the fur- 
ther reaches of Sparbo forest, and a long rocky amphitheatre, 
terraced like a giant’s staircase. 

The insurgents "went on, constrained by the narrowness of 
the way to lengthen out their line of march. They entered 
deep gorges, showing no light and uttering not a sound. 
Even the noise of their footsteps could not be heard amid the 
thunder of the waterfalls and the roar of the mighty winds, 
which set the great trees waving and made the clouds dance 
around the icy mountain summits. As they moved through 
the gloomy depths of the pass, the moonlight did not even 
touch the points of their lances, and the white eagles, flying 
at intervals over their heads, had no idea that such a human 
swarm was trespassing on their domains. Once old Guidon 
Stayper touched Kennybol’s shoulder, with the butt of his 
carbine. 


322 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ Captain, captain ! I see something shining behind that 
thicket of holly and broom ! ” 

“ I see it too,” the mountaineer leader responded ; “ ’tis 
the reflection of the clouds in the torrent.” 

They moved on, until Guidon again suddenly seized the 
leader by the arm. 

“ Look,” he said ; “ are not those muskets, gleaming up 
there in the shadow of the rocks ? ” 

“ Don’t be uneasy, brother Guidon,” said Kennybol, after 
a momentary scrutiny, shaking his head. u ’Tis the moon- 
light, falling on a piece of ice.” 

No further cause for alarm manifested itself ; and the dif- 
ferent companies went tranquilly onward through the wind- 
ing pass, gradually forgetting that their position involved the 
slightest degree of danger. After two hours of wearisome 
progress over the tree-trunks and rocks with which the road 
was obstructed, the advance guard entered the grove of fir- 
trees covering the steep slopes at the end of Black Column 
pass, and above which rise black moss-covered cliffs. 

Guidon Stayper went up to Kennybol, declaring his thank- 
fulness that they were getting out of the ill-omened ravine, 
and adding that he was going to render homage to St. Syl- 
vester for their fortunate escape from Black Column pass. 
Kennybol began to laugh, swearing that he had never felt 
any such old woman’s fears, so true it is that, with most men, 
when danger is past, ’tis the same as if it had never ex- 
isted ; and then they seek, by displaying their incredulity, to 
demonstrate the courage which perhaps they have not made 
manifest before. 

At that moment two little points of light, like burning 
coals, floating through the darkness of the undergrowth, at- 
tracted his attention. 

“ By my soul’s salvation,” he whispered, seizing Guidon’s 
arm, “ there, certainly, are two fiery eyes, that must belong to 
the finest lynx that ever snarled in the brushwood.” 

“ You are right,” responded old Stayper ; “ and if he were 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


323 


not marching in front of us, I should be willing to believe 
that such cursed eyes as those could belong to no one but the 
Ice ” — 

“ Hush ! ” said Kennybol, as he grasped his carbine. “ It 
£hall not be said that so fine a bit of game as that escaped 
with impunity from Kennybol.” 

The shot was made before Guidon Stayper could check the 
imprudent hunter, although he seized him by the arm. The 
report was followed, not by the plaintive wail of a wildcat, 
but by a frightful tiger growl, and by an outburst of even 
more horrible human laughter. 

N.o one heard the resounding echo as the musket-shot died 
away in the mountain spaces ; for the flash from the carbine 
had scarcely lit up the darkness, or the report broken the all- 
pervading silence, when from a thousand throats the cry of 
“ Long live the king ! ” went up from the surrounding rocks 
and forest, like a great clap of thunder, sweeping over the 
heads of the insurgents from either side, from before and from 
behind them ; while a murderous volley of musketry smote 
them in the face, stunning and blinding them at the same 
time, and revealing, amid clouds of reddish smoke, a battalion 
behind every rock, and a soldier behind every tree. 


324 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

To arms, captains, — to arms ! — The Captive of Ochali. 

We shall now ask the reader to be kind enough to go back 
with us to the beginning of the day that has just passed, and 
imagine himself at Skongen, where the arquebusier regiment, 
which we saw on its march in the thirtieth chapter of this 
veracious chronicle, had taken up its quarters, just as the 
insurgents were emerging from the Apsylcorh lead-mine. 

After having given his orders with regard to quarters for 
his men, Baron Vœthaün, colonel of arquebusiers, was crossing 
the threshold of the tavern, near the town gate, when he felt 
a heavy hand resting in a familiar way upon his shoulder. 
He turned around. 

The man who stood before him was very short, and a big 
straw hat so concealed his face as to leave nothing visible 
there but a bristling red beard. He was closely wrapped 
up in the folds of a gray woollen cloak, to which was still 
attached the ragged remnants of a hood, indicating that it 
had once been some sort of a priestly garment. The man’s 
hands were concealed in large gloves. 

“Well, my man,” said the colonel brusquely; “what the 
devil do you want with me ? ” 

“ Colonel,” responded the little man, with a curious expres- 
sion, “come with me a moment; I have something to give 
you.” 

At this strange invitation the baron stood still, surprised 
and speechless. 

“ Important information,” said the man with the big gloves. 

Such insistency had its effect on Baron Vœthaün. In view 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


325 


of the critical condition of affairs in the province, and the 
importance of the mission with which he was intrusted, no 
means of information was to be disdained. 

“ Go on,” he said. 

The little man led the way, until they were outside the 
town, — then he stopped. 

u Colonel, would you like to exterminate the rebels at one 
blow ? ” 

“ Well, that wouldn’t be a bad way to begin the campaign,” 
said the colonel, laughing. 

“ In that case, put all your men in ambush to-day, in 
Black Column pass, two miles from here. The insurgents will 
camp there to-night. When you see the blaze of the camp- 
fire, let your troops fall on. The victory will be an easy one.” 

“ My good fellow, the advice is good, and I thank you for 
it ; but how came you to know what you have just told me ? ” 

“ If you knew me, colonel, you would be more likely to ask 
me how such a thing could take place, and I not know it.” 

“ Yes, but who are you ? ” 

“ I didn’t come here to tell you that,” said the little man, 
stamping on the ground. 

“ You needn’t be alarmed. Whoever you may be, the ser- 
vice that you render will be your passport. Perhaps you 
were one of the rebels ? ” 

“ I refused to join with them.” 

“ Then, why do you conceal your name, if you are a faithful 
subject to the king ? ” 

“ What is it to you ? ” 

The colonel wanted to get further information from this 
extraordinary counsellor. 

“ Tell me, is it true that the brigands are under the leader- 
ship of the famous Hans of Iceland.” 

“ Hans of Iceland ! ” the little man repeated, with a peculiar 
vocal inflection. 

The baron repeated his question ; but an outburst of laugh- 
ter, that was like a wild beast’s roar, was the only response 


326 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


that he could obtain. He asked a number of other questions, 
about the numbers of the miners and their leaders ; the little 
man would tell him nothing. 

“ Colonel, I have told you all that I have to tell you. Put 
your regiment in ambush to-day, in Black Pillar pass, and you 
can wipe out the whole mob.” 

“ Since you will not tell me who you are, you deprive your- 
self of receiving the king’s gratitude ; but none the less it is 
no more than right that Baron Vœthaün should offer some evi- 
dence of thanks for the service you render him.” The colonel 
threw his purse at the little man’s feet. 

“ Keep your gold, colonel,” said the other. “ I have no 
need of it ; and,” he added, pointing to a large bag fastened to 
his belt with a cord, “ if you needed a guerdon for killing 
those men, I myself have gold to give you in return for their 
blood.” 

Before the colonel had recovered from the astonishment 
into which he had been thrown by these inexplicable words, 
his mysterious visitor had disappeared. 

Baron Vœthaün went slowly back, asking himself how much 
faith he could put in what had been told him. Just as he was 
entering the tavern, he was handed a letter, sealed with the 
grand chancellor’s crest. It was a message from the Count of 
Ahlefeld, containing, to the great astonishment of the colonel, 
the same information and the same advice which he had just 
received at the town gate from the incomprehensible creature 
in the straw hat and big gloves. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


327 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

. . . A hundred banners were bent forwards over the heads of the valiant, 
and blood flowed round like water, and death was held better than flight. 
A Saxon bard had called it a feast of the swords — a gathering of the 
eagles to the prey — the clashing of bills upon shield and helmet — the 
shouting of battle, more joyful than the clamor of a bridal. — Walter 
Scott : Ivanhoe. 

No attempt will be made here to describe the horrible con- 
fusion which overwhelmed the disorderly rebel columns, when 
the fatal volley suddenly showed them the thickly guarded 
slopes, and every hollow peopled with unexpected enemies. 
It would have been difficult to say whether the prolonged 
chorus of shouts that went up from the thunderstruck ranks 
was a cry of despair, of fear, or of fury. The terrible fire, 
trained upon them from every side by the ambushed royal 
troops, grew more intense from moment to moment ; and before 
a second musket-shot on their side had followed up Kennybol’s 
ill-omened effort, they were surrounded by a stifling cloud of 
glowing smoke, through which death leaped blindly ; and each 
of them, in his isolation, could recognize none of his fellows, 
and could but barely distinguish in the distance the arquebu- 
siers, dragoons, and uhlans, who showed themselves confusedly 
among the rocks and undergrowth, like devils in a furnace. 

The different companies, stretching out over a distance of 
about a mile along a narrow and winding road, bordered on one 
side by a raging torrent, and on the other by a wall of rock, 
that prevented them from making a quick retreat, were like a 
serpent cut through as it straightens out its length, while the 
living segments, writhing in foam, go on for a long time, try- 
ing to unite. 


828 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


When the first shock of surprise was over, the men in their 
natural savage intrepidity seemed to be animated by a mutual 
feeling of despair. Furious at their defenceless condition, the 
swarm of brigands set up a frightful shout, that drowned for 
a moment the noise made by their triumphant enemies; and 
when the latter saw their leaderless, disorganized, and practi- 
cally disarmed victims climbing up the steep slopes, under a 
terrible fire, clinging tooth and nail to the vines, and waving 
hammers and pitchforks — then the soldiers, well-armed, un- 
der perfect discipline, and securely posted as they were, and 
who had not yet lost one of their number, could not repress 
an involuntary shudder of terror. 

Often and often soqje of the frantic rabble succeeded in 
reaching the heights occupied by their assailants, climbing over 
dead bodies, leaping upon the shoulders of their comrades, 
and swinging from rock to rock like living ladders ; but they 
scarcely had time to shout, “ Liberty,” to lift their axes or 
their massive clubs, or to show their blackened faces foaming 
with convulsive rage, when they were hurled back into the 
abyss, striking against their adventurous companions in their 
fall, and carrying the whole attacking force down with them. 

The efforts made by the unfortunate creatures to fly or to 
defend themselves were all in vain. Every exit from the 
pass was closed, and every accessible point swarmed with 
soldiers. The greater number of the ill-fated rebels died in 
the road, after breaking their twibills and cutlasses against 
the rocks. Some, folding their arms, and with eyes fixed 
on the ground, seated themselves on stones along the side of 
the way, and waited in silence and stolidity for the musket- 
balls that knocked them over into the torrent. Those who, 
through Hacket’s foresight, had been armed with worn-out 
arquebuses, directed a few useless and haphazard shots 
toward the summit of the cliffs, or the openings from whence 
emerged a ceaseless rain of bullets. The intermittent and per- 
sistent volleys of musketry were accompanied by a tumultu- 
ous uproar, in which the furious outcry of the bandit leaders, 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


329 


and the cool commands of the officers, could be clearly dis- 
tinguished ; and meanwhile a reddish vapor steamed up from 
the place of carnage, throwing a pulsating light over the 
mountain slopes and the foaming torrent, which swept on- 
ward like a pitiless engine of death between the two con- 
tending throngs, carrying its plunder of human corpses. 

At the beginning of the action, or the butchery rather, the 
Kole mountaineers, led by the dashing and imprudent Kenny- 
bol, suffered most. It will be remembered that they made up 
the vanguard of the rebel army, and that they had entered 
the grove of fir-trees at the farther extremity of the pass. 
The hapless Kennybol had scarcely loaded his arquebuse, 
when the whole wood seemed to be peopled, as if by magic, 
with a host of relentless sharpshooters, who surrounded them 
in a flaming circle, while from a sort of platform that was 
surmounted by great leaning rocks, a whole battalion of the 
Munckholm regiment formed in square, and overwhelmed 
them with a terrifying and pitiless broadside. At this hor- 
rifying crisis, Kennybol in his despair cast his eyes about for 
the mysterious giant, seeing no further hope of safety, except 
through some superhuman agency, such as Hans of Iceland 
might exert; but he did not see the redoubtable demon sud- 
denly spread out two immense wings and rise above the 
combatants, vomitting flames and destruction upon the arque- 
busiers ; he did not see him suddenly expand his stature, till 
he could touch the clouds, and overturn a mountain upon the 
assailants, or stamp his foot and open an abyss under the 
ambushed battalions. The awful Hans of Iceland recoiled, 
as he did, before the first volley, and came with an almost 
terrified face to beg for a carbine; since his axe, as he ex- 
plained in a decidedly human voice, was as useless at such a 
moment as an old woman’s distaff. 

The astonished but still credulous Kennybol handed his 
own musketoon to the giant, with a degree of alarm which 
nearly made him forgetful of his dread of the storm of bullets 
falling around him. Continuing to hope for a miracle, he 


330 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


expected to see his weapon change in Hans of Iceland’s 
hands to a big cannon, or transform itself into a winged 
dragon, darting fire from eyes, mouth, and nostrils. Nothing 
of the sort took place ; and the astonishment of the poor 
hunter reached its climax when he saw the demon load the 
carbine with powder and lead, like any other man, level it in 
the usual way, and fire offhand, without even taking as much 
pains with his aim as Kennybol himself would have done. 
In stupefied surprise he watched as the operation was several 
times repeated ; and finally convinced that no marvel was to 
be wrought, he began to think of what measures should be 
taken by human means to extricate his companions and him- 
self from the evil situation in which they found themselves. 
Already his poor old comrade, Guidon Stay per, had fallen 
by his side, bleeding from many wounds ; and all the moun- 
taineers, realizing that escape was impossible, had clustered 
together, without thinking of defence, and set up a pitiful 
outcry. Kennybol could see what an admirable target such 
an assembly of men afforded to the enemy, for every volley 
took down a score or more. He ordered his unfortunate 
companions to separate,* and take refuge in the bushes lining 
the road, which was wider at this place than anywhere else 
in Black Column pass, and to make the most effective re- 
sponse they could to the murderous fire from the sharp- 
shooters and the battalion. The mountaineers, who were 
mostly very well armed, since they were all hunters, carried 
out their leader’s orders with a submissiveness which perhaps 
they would not have shown at a less critical moment ; for in 
the face of danger men generally lose their heads, and they 
are very willing to render obedience to any one who displays 
even a moderate degree of coolness and presence of mind. 

This exhibition of prudence, however, was far from result- 
ing in victory, or even in protection. Already more of the 
mountaineers had fallen than still remained in a condition to 
fight ; and notwithstanding the example and encouragement of 
their leaders and of the giant, some of them stood leaning 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


831 


upon their useless muskets, or stretched themselves out among 
the wounded, obstinately waiting for the death-blow which 
they had not spirit enough to parry in advance. It will seem 
surprising, perhaps, that men, accustomed all their days to 
defy danger as they ran from glacier to glacier in pursuit of 
wild beasts, should so quickly lose their courage ; but it is a 
serious fact that in ordinary minds courage is a very limited 
virtue. A man may, perhaps, laugh at a volley of grapeshot, 
and tremble in the darkness, or at the verge of a precipice ; 
he may attack savage animals from day to day, leap across 
chasms, and yet fly before a discharge of artillery. It is 
often the case that intrepidity is nothing but a habit, and 
that, though one may have ceased to fear death in certain 
forms, death itself is none the less an object of terror. 

Surrounded by heaps of his dying comrades, Kennybol was 
himself beginning to despair, although he had as yet received 
but a trifling wound in the left arm, and although he could 
see that the diabolical giant continued to fulfil his duties as a 
musketeer with the most reassuring imperturbability. All at 
once he perceived indications of extraordinary confusion in 
the ranks of the battalion that stood upon the rocky heights ; 
and he knew that the disturbance, whatever it was, could not 
be the result of the very slight damage that the weak and 
erratic fire of the mountaineers had been able to inflict. He 
heard frightful cries of distress, — the imprecations of the 
dying, and exclamations of horror coming from the victorious 
soldiery. Soon the fire was relaxed, the smoke lifted, and he 
could distinctly see enormous blocks of granite falling down 
the tall cliff that rose above the plateau, and crushing the 
Munckholm arquebusiers to the ground. The great missiles 
followed one another with awful rapidity ; and they made a 
frightful noise as they struck against one another and fell 
among the soldiers, who broke their ranks, and hastened to 
descend in disorder from their post of vantage, and to fly in 
every direction. 

At this unexpected manifestation of favor Kennybol turned 


332 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


his head — the giant was still there ! The mountaineer was 
dumb with amazement ; for he had the idea that Hans of Ice- 
land had at last taken flight, got to the top of the cliff, and 
proceeded to deal out destruction upon the enemy. He lifted 
his eyes to the summit whence the granite blocks were falling, 
and could see nothing. He could not believe that a band of 
rebels had succeeded in reaching such an advantageous posi- 
tion ; since he could discern no gleaming weapons, nor could 
he hear any shouts of triumph. 

Meanwhile the fire from the plateau had entirely ceased; 
and the remnant of the battalion, concealed by the trees, 
was probably re-forming at the base of the cliff. The sharp- 
shooters also had relaxed their fire ; and Kennybol, with 
characteristic military sagacity, took speedy profit from the 
unexpected opportunity. He rallied his companions, and 
pointed out to them, through the thick reddish smoke that 
covered the battlefield, the heaps of corpses piled up on the 
plateau under the fragments of rock that kept falling from 
moment to moment. Then the mountaineers responded to 
the groans of their enemies with shouts of victory. They 
formed in column ; and although they were still harassed by 
the sharpshooters among the bushes, they were animated with 
fresh courage, and determined to get out of the ill-omened 
pass alive. 

The column of mountaineers was about to move forward, 
and Kennybol had already given the signal on his horn, amid 
shouts of “ Liberty ! Liberty ! Down with guardianship ! ” 
when in front of them arose the sound of drum and trumpet, 
sounding the charge. Then the remnant of the battalion, re- 
enforced by other troops, debouched into the road, a musket- 
shot away, confronting the mountaineers with a bristling line 
of lances and bayonets, while behind them stood a supporting 
force, extending back to an unknown distance. Coming thus 
unexpectedly face to face with Kennybol’s column, the battal- 
ion had halted ; and one who seemed to be in command came 
forward, waving a little white flag, and escorted by a trumpeter. 


HANS OF ICELAND , 


333 


The unforeseen appearance of the troops did not disconcert 
Kennybol. There is a point where the sense of danger gets to 
be commonplace, and surprise and fear are impossible. At the 
first notes from the drum and the trumpet, the old Kole fox 
checked his companions ; and at the moment when the battal- 
ion front deployed in good order, he made his men load their 
carbines, and arranged them two by two, that they might 
present the least possible front to the enemy. Then he took 
his station at their head, side by side with the giant, with 
whom, in the heat of action, he had come to almost familiar 
terms, since he had ventured to notice that his eyes were not 
precisely like flaming fires, and that his supposed claws were 
not, after all, very much different from human fingernails. 

When he saw the commander of the royal arquebusiers 
coming forward in an aspect of surrender, and when the firing 
of the sharpshooters was entirely suspended, — although their 
presence in the woods was still made manifest by their fre- 
quent shouts, — at this condition of affairs he paused for an 
instant in his preparation for defence. Meanwhile the officer 
with the white flag had crossed the space between the two 
forces, had come to a pause, and the trumpeter with him 
three times blew the summons. The officer then called out 
in a voice so loud that the mountaineers could hear it dis- 
tinctly, notwithstanding the noise of the combat echoing 
behind them in the ravines, — 

“ In the king’s name ! The king’s pardon is accorded to 
those rebels who will lay down their arms, and deliver up 
their leaders to his majesty’s sovereign justice ! ” 

The words had scarcely been uttered when a shot came 
from the neighboring bushes. The officer tottered, took two 
or three steps, holding the white flag high in the air, and then 
fell, calling out, “ Treachery ! ” No one could tell by whom 
the fatal shot had been fired. 

“ Traitors ! Cowards ! ” the battalion of arquebusiers 
shouted, with groans of rage, and a terrific volley of mus- 
ketry mowed down the mountaineers. 


334 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ Treachery ! ” the mountaineers now shouted, furious at 
seeing their comrades falling at their sides; and a general 
discharge of carbines responded to the soldiers’ unexpected 
volley. 

“ Upon them, men ! Death to the cowards ! Death ! ” the 
officers exclaimed. 

“ Death ! Death ! ” the mountaineers replied. 

From both sides the combatants sprang forward with up- 
lifted swords ; and close to the spot where the unfortunate 
officer had fallen, the two forces came together with a horrible 
clamor of shouts and clashing arms. The opposing ranks 
mingled inextricably. Rebel leaders and royal officers, sol- 
diers and mountaineers, clutched and struck and throttled 
one another, like two herds of starving tigers meeting in the 
desert. Lances, bayonets, and halberds were useless ; swords 
and axes were the only weapons that gleamed above the clus- 
tering contestants ; and many of the fighters, contending body 
to body, were not able to employ any other means of attack 
than their daggers or their teeth. 

Mountaineers and arquebusiers were animated by the same 
degree of fury and indignation ; and cries of “ Treachery ! ” 
and “ Vengeance ! ” were bandied from mouth to mouth. The 
contest had reached that degree of ferocity when every heart 
gives full sway to irresistible passion, when the death of an 
enemy is preferable to one’s own life, when the heaps of dead 
and wounded are only dust under the feet, and when the 
dying rouse themselves to bite the feet of those who trample 
over them. 

It was at this moment that a little man threw himself into 
the midst of the carnage, with horrible laughter and shrieks 
of joy. Some of the combatants, seeing him in his garb of 
beast-skins through the obscurity of the smoke and the steam 
from the blood of the fallen, took him for a wild animal. 
No one knew whence he had come, or for which side he 
fought ; his stone axe made no choice of victims, and fell 
with equal fury on a rebel’s skull or a soldier’s body. He 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


335 


seemed to take the most pleasure, however, in slaughtering 
the Munckholm arquebusiers. They all fled before him, as 
he ran from side to side in the thick of the fighting, like a 
demoniac spirib ; and his bloody axe whirled round him cease- 
lessly, setting in motion a ghastly circle of fragments of flesh, 
dissevered limbs, and broken bones. Like the others, he 
shouted “ Vengeance ! ” and uttered barbarous exclamations, 
now and then calling upon the name of Gill. The unknown 
antagonist took part in the carnage as if it had been a feast. 
A mountaineer, who had attracted his murderous glance, fell 
at the feet of the giant, to whom Kennybol had so vainly 
looked for assistance, and called out, — 

“ Hans of Iceland, save me ! ” 

“ Hans of Iceland ! ” the little man repeated, drawing 
nearer to the giant. “ Are you Hans of Iceland ? ” he asked. 

The giant’s only response was to uplift an iron hatchet. 
The little man drew back, and buried his axe in the skull of 
the unfortunate fellow, who was imploring the giant for aid. 
The unknown burst into laughter. 

“ Oho ; by Ingolphus ! I thought Hans of Iceland had 
more skill than that.” 

“ Thus Hans of Iceland succors those who pray to him ! ” 
said the giant. 

“ Thus and thus ! ” 

The two formidable champions attacked one another in 
fury, the iron hatchet and the stone axe meeting with such 
a shock that both were shattered in a shower of sparks. 
Quicker than thought the little man seized a heavy wooden 
club that some dying man had let fall, and evading the 
clutch of his adversary dealt him a terrible blow, right on 
the forehead. The giant gave vent to a stifled cry, and fell. 
The little man danced triumphantly upon the body, foaming 
with joy. 

« Your name was altogether too big for you,” he said ; and 
waving his club he went in search of new victims. 

The giant was not dead. The violence of the blow had 


336 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


stunned him, and he had fallen almost lifeless. He had be- 
gun to open his eyes and make a few weak movements, when 
an arquebusier saw him in the midst of the throng, and sprang 
upon him, shouting, — 

“ Hans of Iceland is taken ! Victory ! ” 

“ Hans of Iceland is taken ! ” was repeated on every 
side, in tones of triumph or despair. The little man had 
disappeared. 

For some time the mountaineers had felt that they must 
succumb to the attacking force ; for the Munckholm arque- 
busiers had been strengthened by the sharpshooters from the 
woods and detachments of uhlans and dismounted dragoons, 
who had emerged at intervals from the farther recesses of the 
pass, where the surrender of the principal rebel leaders had 
put an end to the carnage. The worthy Kennybol, who had 
been wounded at the beginning of the action, was already a 
prisoner. The capture of Hans of Iceland wiped out what 
little courage the mountaineers still possessed. They laid 
down their arms. 

As the first rays of dawn lit up the sharpened peaks of the 
upper glaciers, where darkness still brooded, silence reigned 
in Black Column pass, except for occasional feeble moans of 
pain that were tossed lightly hither and thither by the morn- 
ing breeze. Great flocks of crows were hurrying toward the 
ravine from all points of the compass ; and two or three poor 
goatherds, skirting the edge of the cliffs in the obscurity, 
turned back and fled in dismay to their shelters, affirming 
that they had seen a beast with human face, seated on a pile 
of corpses in the gorge below, drinking blood. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


337 


CHAPTER XL. 


Burn then who will, within these hidden fires! — Brantôme. 


“ My daughter, open the window ; the glass obscures the 
light, and I want to see the day.” 

“ See the day, father ? Twilight is almost here ! ” 

“ The sun still shines upon the hilltops along the shores of 
the bay. I want to get a breath of free air through the prison 
bars. The sky is so pure ! ” 

“ But, father, a storm is rising behind the horizon.” 

“ A storm, Ethel ! What makes you think so ? ” 

“The sky is so clear, father, that one should look for a 
storm.” 

The old man glanced in surprise at the young girl. “ If I 
had thought of that in my youth,” he said, “ I should not be 
here now ; ” then he added, in a tone expressive of less emo- 
tion, “what you say is true, but not at your age. I cannot 
comprehend how it is that your youthful sagacity reaches to 
the same results as my ripened experience.” 

Ethel looked down, as if she were disconcerted by this obvi- 
ous reflection. She clasped her two hands in a sorrowful 
way, and uttered a profound sigh. 

“ My daughter,” said the old prisoner, “ for several days 
you have been pale, as if the blood in your veins had lost its 
vitality. Eor several mornings you have appeared with red 
and swollen eyelids, as if you had been wakeful and weeping. 
Several days, Ethel, have gone by in silence, and your voice 
has offered me no consolation in my gloomy thoughts about 
the past. You seem to be more sad than I ; and yet you are 
not afflicted, like your father, with the burden of an empty 
and useless life weighing upon the soul. 


338 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ Your youth îas been nurtured in affliction, but it cannot 
reach your heart. Clouds that come in the morning quickly 
disappear. You are at that stage of existence when one 
makes choice in dreams of a future independent of the pres- 
ent, whatever that may be. What is the matter, my daughter ? 
Thanks to the monotony of captivity, you are at least shel- 
tered from unforeseen misfortunes. What fault have you 
committed? I cannot believe that you are grieving in my 
behalf ; you ought to be accustomed now to my irremediable 
destiny. ’Tis true that hope no longer has a place in my 
scheme of things, but that is no reason why your eyes should 
speak only of despair.” 

As he thus spoke, the ordinarily magisterial tones of the 
prisoner were softened almost to a paternal accent. Ethel 
stood before him, and did not say a word. All at once she 
turned aside with a convulsive movement, and fell on her 
knees upon the stones, hiding her face in her hands, as if to 
stifle the tears and sobs that sought tumultuous escape from 
her breast. The heart of the unfortunate young girl was 
indeed torn with excessive suffering. How was it that the 
fateful stranger had been able to make her reveal the secret 
that was destroying her life ? Alas, since Ordener’s iden- 
tity had been made known to her, the poor child had not 
been able to give her eyes to sleep or her spirit to repose. 
Night brought no solace, except the opportunity that she had 
of being able to weep in peace. It was all over with ; he was 
no longer hers, — he, who had been bound to her by all her 
memories and griefs and prayers, — he, of whom she believed 
herself the chosen bride in the illusion of her dreams ; for the 
night when Ordener had pressed her so tenderly in his arms 
was now in her thoughts nothing but a dream. As a dream, 
indeed, it had come back to her every night since ; and so there 
was a sense of guilt in the love she still maintained, in spite 
of herself, for the absent one. Her Ordener affianced to 
another ! Who can say what her virginal heart endured 
when the strange and unknown sentiment of jealously slipped 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


839 


into it like a viper ; when in long hours of wakefulness on her 
torturous bed, she pictured Ordener as being perhaps at that 
very moment in the arms of another woman, more beautiful, 
richer, and of higher rank than she ? 

“ For,” she said to herself, “ I was foolish indeed to believe 
that he would run the risk of death for me. Ordener is the 
son of a viceroy, of a powerful nobleman, and I am nothing 
but a captive, the despised daughter of an outcast. He has 
his freedom ; and he has doubtless gone to espouse his beautiful 
betrothed, the daughter of a chancellor, of a minister, of a 
haughty count ; but can it be that my Ordener deceived me ? 
0 God, who would have believed that such a voice had false- 
hood in it ? ” 

The unhappy Ethel wept and wept, as in fancy she saw 
Ordener, who had been like a god to her maiden soul, walking 
to the altar, arrayed in all the splendor suited to his rank, 
surrounded by festal pomp, and awarding to another the smile 
that had been her only joy. In the very midst of her inex- 
pressible despair, however, she did not for a moment forget 
her filial affection. The gentle girl had made the most heroic 
efforts to conceal her sorrow from her unfortunate father; for 
the most distressing thing, when one is in grief, is the sup- 
pression of its external expression ; the tears that fall into 
the heart are more bitter than those that are shed from the 
eyes. It was several days before the old man in his abstrac- 
tion saw any change in Ethel, and the almost affectionate 
questions that he had addressed to her had at length inspired 
the flood of tears that had been too long pent up within her. 
For some time the father stood, shaking his head, and watch- 
ing with a bitter smile as his daughter wept. 

“ Ethel,” he said at length, “ you do not live among men ; 
why do you weep ? ” 

He had scarcely finished speaking when the gentle, noble- 
hearted girl rose to her feet. By a strenuous effort she 
had repressed her tears, and was wiping her eyes with her 
scarf. 


340 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ My father,” she said appealingly, “ my lord and father, 
pardon me ; it was a moment of weakness.” 

Then she looked at him with a wistful attempt at a smile, 
went to the other side of the room to get the Edda , and came 
and sat down near her taciturn father, opening the book at 
random. Quieting the emotion in her voice, she began to read ; 
but the words made no impression, either on her mind or on 
that of her father. The latter made a gesture of dissent. 

“ Enough — enough, my daughter ! ” She closed the book. 
“ Ethel,” Schumacker went on, “ do you still sometimes think 
of Ordener ? ” The young girl trembled and hesitated, on the 
point of speaking. “ Yes,” her father added ; “ the Ordener 
who went away.” 

“My lord and father,” Ethel interrupted, “why should we 
concern ourselves about him ? I think, with you, that he is 
gone, never to return.” 

“ Never to return, my daughter ! I could not have said that. 
On the contrary, some presentiment tells me that he will come 
back.” 

“ Such was not your idea, my noble father, when you spoke 
to me so doubtingly with regard to the young man.” 

“ Did I speak doubtingly of him ? ” 

“ Yes, my father ; and I have come to look at the matter in 
the same light as you did. I think that he has deceived us.” 

“ That he has deceived us, my daughter ! If I were of that 
opinion, I should be acting as men generally do when they con- 
demn without proof. I have seen in Ordener nothing but 
evidences of devotion.” 

“ And do you know, my venerable father, that his cordial 
speech did not conceal perfidious thoughts ? ” 

“ Ordinarily men do not trouble themselves about those who 
are in misfortune and disgrace. If Ordener had not been 
attached to me, he would not have come in the way he did to 
my prison, without some object.” 

“ Are you sure,” Ethel responded, in a hesitating way, 
“ that he did not have an object in coming here ? ” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


341 


“ And what ? ” the old man demanded earnestly. 

Ethel did not reply. She could not now go on bringing ac- 
cusations against Ordener, the beloved, when she had formerly 
defended him against her father. 

“ I am no longer Count of Griff enf eld,” the latter went on. 
“ I am no longer grand chancellor of Denmark and Norway, 
dispenser of royal favors, and all-powerful minister. I am a 
miserable state prisoner, a proscribed man, a political outlaw. 
It takes a good deal of courage to speak of me without exe- 
crations to the men whom I loaded with honors and benefits; 
it requires devotion to cross the threshold of this dungeon, 
unless one is a jailer or an executioner ; it takes heroism, my 
daughter, to come here and address me as friend. No, I am 
not an ingrate, like the rest of the human race. This young 
man deserves my gratitude, even for letting me see a benevo- 
lent face, and letting me hear a sympathetic voice.” 

Ethel listened in torture to language which a few days be- 
fore, when Ordener was her Ordener, in her heart, would have 
overwhelmed her with delight. The old man, after a moment’s 
pause, went on solemnly , — 

“ Listen to me, my daughter, for what I am going to say to 
you is serious. I realize that I am gradually failing ; my life 
is little by little ebbing away; yes, my daughter, the end 
draws near.” 

“ In God’s name, my father,” Ethel interrupted, with a stifled 
moan, “ do not speak in that way ! Spare your poor daughter, 
I beg of you ; alas, do you want to abandon her also ? What 
is to become of her when your protection is taken away, and 
she is left alone in the world ? ” 

“ The protection of a political outlaw ! ” said the father, 
shaking his head. “Well, it was of that I was thinking. 
Yes, your future happiness is more of a question with me than 
my past misfortune. Listen to me, then, and do not interrupt 
me. Ordener does not deserve to be judged so severely by 
you, my daughter; and up to now I did not suppose that you 
felt so much aversion toward him. His bearing is frank and 


342 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


noble ; that proves nothing, I acknowledge, but it seems to me 
that he may perhaps be not altogether lacking in virtue, al- 
though, since he carries a human heart, the germs of every vice 
and every crime may be lurking there. There is no fire with- 
out smoke.” The old man paused again, and fixing his glance 
on his daughter, added, “ Warned by an inner presentiment 
of the approach of death, I have thought about him, and about 
you, Ethel ; and if he comes back, as I hope he will, I will give 
him to you for your protector and husband.” 

Ethel turned pale and trembled. At the very moment 
when her dream of happiness had vanished forever, her 
father was trying to make it a reality. The bitter thought, 
“ I might have been happy ! ” gave added intensity to her 
despair. She stood for a moment without speaking, striving 
to keep back the burning tears that filled her eyes. Her 
father waited. 

“ What,” she said at length, in a faltering voice ; “ you 
choose him for my husband, my lord and father, when you 
know nothing about his rank, his family, or his name ? ” 

“ I did not choose him for you, my daughter ; but I choose 
him for you now.” The old man’s tone was almost impe- 
rious. Ethel sighed. “ I choose him for you now, I tell you ; 
and what do I care about his rank ? I do not need to know 
his family, since I know him. Consider — this is the only 
anchor of safety that remains to you. Fortunately, I have 
reason to believe that he does not feel the same repugnance 
toward you that you show toward him.” The poor young 
girl lifted her eyes to heaven. “ You understand me, Ethel ; 
I repeat, what is his rank to me ? He is no doubt of humble 
birth, since those who are born in palaces do not frequent 
prisons. Yes, and do not manifest vain regrets, my daughter ; 
do not forget that Ethel Schumacker is no longer Princess of 
Wollin and Countess of Tongsberg ; you have descended to a 
lower level than that from which your father began to rise. 
Be happy, then, if this man will accept your hand, whatever 
his family may be. If he is of humble birth, so much the 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


848 


better, my daughter ; your days will be all the more secure 
from the storms that have destroyed your father’s fortunes. 
Bearing a humble name, you will lead a humble life, far from 
the envy and the hate of men, — a life very different from 
mine, because it will end more fortunately than it began.” 

“ 0 my father, have pity ! ” said Ethel, falling on her 
knees. 

“ What is it you would say, my daughter ? ” he inquired, 
stretching out his arms in surprise. 

“ In the name of Heaven do not depict such happiness ; it 
is not for me ! ” • 

“ Ethel,” said the old man severely, “ do not trifle with 
your future. I refused the hand of a princess royal, — a 
princess of Holstein- Augustenburg, — do you understand ? — 
and my pride has been cruelly punished. You disdain the 
hand of an obscure but loyal man ; tremble, lest your punish- 
ment be even more pitiless ! ” 

“ Would to Heaven,” murmured Ethel, “that he were a 
man loyal and obscure ! ” 

The old man walked up and down the room in agitation. 

“ My daughter,” he said, “ ’tis your poor father who begs 
you and orders you to do this. Do not let me go to my 
death disquieted about your future ; promise me to accept 
this stranger as your spouse.” 

“ I shall always obey you, my father ; but do not hope for 
his return.” 

“ I have weighed the probability ; and I think, judging by 
the way in which Ordener spoke your name ” — 

“ That he loves me,” Ethel interrupted bitterly ; “ oh, no ; 
do not believe that ! ” 

“ I do not know,” the father responded coldly, “.whether, 
to employ your girlish expression, he loves you ; but I know 
that he will come back.” 

“ Do not cling to that idea, my noble father. It may be, 
too, that you would not desire him for your son-in-law, if you 
knew him.” 


344 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ Ethel, my son-in-law he shall be, whatever his name or 
rank.” 

“ Well,” she responded, “ if this young man, whom you 
look upon as a source of consolation, and whom you would 
like to see your daughter’s protector, — if this young man, 
my lord and father, were the son of one of your mortal ene- 
mies, the viceroy of Norway and Count of Guldenlew, — then 
what ? ” 

“ What are you saying ? ” said Schumacker, recoiling. 
“ Great God ! Ordener ! That Ordener ! ’Tis impossible ! ” 

The expression of unappeasable hatred that flashed in the 
old man’s dull eyes struck terror to Ethel’s trembling heart, 
and the young girl bitterly repented the imprudent words 
that she had just uttered. The arrow had struck the mark. 
Schumacker stood motionless for a few moments, with folded 
arms. His body was convulsed, as if he had been stretched 
on a burning gridiron, his flaming eyes started from their 
sockets, and the glance he fixed upon the stone floor was like 
a lightning bolt. At length a few words came from his pur- 
ple lips, uttered in the weak voice of a man in a dream. 

“ Ordener ! Yes ; that’s it, — Ordener Guldenlew ! ’Tis 
well. Ah, Schumacker, you old fool ; you open your arms, 
do you, to the loyal young man who comes to knife you ! ” 
Then he struck his foot upon the stones, and his speech 
rolled forth like thunder. “ ’Tis thus they send one of their 
infamous race to insult me in my downfall and my captivity ! 
I had already seen an Ahlefeld ; I came near smiling on a 
Guldenlew ! The monsters ! Who would have believed that 
Ordener had such a soul, and carried such a name ? Woe to 
me — woe to him ! ” 

Then .he fell exhausted into his armchair ; and while his 
over-burdened breast was swelling with long sighs, poor 
Ethel trembled in alarm, and wept at his feet. 

“ Do not weep, my daughter,” he said in ominous tones ; 
“ come, oh, come to my heart ! ” 

He pressed her in his arms. Ethel did not know what tu 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


345 


make of a caress coming at such a wrathful moment, when he 
added, “At any rate, young girl, you have been more saga- 
cious than your old father. You were not deceived by the 
soft-eyed, venomous serpent. I thank you that you have given 
me something of your hate for that execrable Ordener ! ” 
“My lord and father,” she said, shuddering at praise she 
knew was not deserved, “ my father, calm yourself ! ” 

“ Promise me,” Schumacker went on, “ that you will always 
have the same feeling toward Guldenlew’s son — swear it 
to me ! ” 

“ God forbids oaths, my father.” 

“ Swear it, my daughter,” Schumacker repeated vehemently. 
“Is it not true that you will always retain the same feeling 
for Ordener Guldenlew ? ” 

“ Always ! ” Ethel responded, without hesitation. 

“ J Tis well, my daughter,” said the old man, drawing her to 
him ; “ ’tis well that I bequeath to you at least the hatred I 
have for my despoilers, if I cannot bequeath to you the 
riches and the honor that they took from me. Listen ! They 
robbed your old father of his rank and glory, and they 
dragged him to the scaffold in chains, blackening him with 
every infamy, that they might make his torture the less to be 
endured. The wretches — and to me they owed the power 
which they turned against me! Oh, may heaven and hell 
bear witness, and may they be cursed in their own existence, 
and cursed in their posterity ! ” 

He was silent for a moment ; then he embraced his pool- 
daughter, who was horrified at his imprecations. 

“ But, my Ethel, — you who are my only glory and my only 
riches, — tell me how it was that your instinct was more dis- 
cerning than mine ? How did you discover that the traitor 
bore one of the abhorrent names that are written in letters of 
fire on my heart ? How did you guess his secret ? ” 

She was gathering all her strength to make response, when 
the door opened, and a man dressed in black, carrying an 
ebony staff in his hand, and wearing a chain of burnished 


346 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


steel about his neck, appeared upon the threshold, attended 
by halberdiers in the same sombre attire. 

“ What do you want of me ? ” the captive demanded 
harshly, in astonishment. 

The man made no reply, and without looking at him un- 
rolled a long parchment, to which a seal of green wax hung 
by silken threads. He read, in a loud voice, — 

“ In the name of his majesty, our gracious lord and sov- 
ereign, Christiern, the king: Schumacker, prisoner of state 
in the royal fortress of Munckholm, and his daughter, are 
enjoined to follow the bearer of this order.” 

“ What do you want of me ? ” Schumacker repeated. The 
man in black made no response, except to begin again to read 
the parchment. “ Enough ! ” said the old man. 

Rising to his feet, he signed to the surprised and horrified 
Ethel to follow with him the lead of their lugubrious escort. 



“‘WHAT DO YOU WANT OF ME 7 ' THE CAPTIVE DEMANDED HARSHLY, 

IN ASTONISHMENT.” 















HANS OF ICELAND. 


347 


CHAPTER XLI. 

A lugubrious signal is given. A servile agent of the law knocks at his 
door, and warns him that he is needed elsewhere. — Joseph de Maistre. 

Darkness had fallen, and a cold wind was whistling 
around the accursed tower. The doors of the Vygla ruin 
shook on their hinges, as if some all-embracing hand had 
them in its clutches. The barbarous inhabitants of the place, 
the executioner and his family, were sitting about a fire that 
had been lighted in the middle of the apartment, on the 
second floor, and that threw fluctuating shadows with its red- 
dish light over their sombre faces and scarlet clothing. The 
features of the children expressed something of the father’s 
ferocious grin and the mother’s frantic leer. Their eyes, like 
Bechlie’s, were turned on Orugix, who sat on a wooden stool, 
apparently out of breath, and who, judging further by the 
thick dust upon his feet, had just arrived from some distant 
journey. 

“ Listen, woman ; listen, children ! I have not been away 
two whole days to bring back bad news. If I’m not royal 
executioner within a month, I don’t know how to make a 
slip-noose or handle an axe. Cheer up, my little cubs ; your 
heritage from your father may perhaps be the Copenhagen 
scaffold.” 

u Nychol,” asked Bechlie, “ what is it ? ” 

“ And you, my old wanton,” Nychol responded, with a 
hearty laugh, “ you also may rejoice ! You can buy a string 
of blue glass beads to decorate your withered stork’s neck. 
Our arrangement soon expires ; but in a month or so, when 
you see me head executioner of the two kingdoms, you will 
not refuse to make another bargain with me, is it not so ? ” 


348 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ What is it — tell us what it is, father ? ” the children 
demanded, the elder riding on a blood-stained trestle, while 
the younger amused himself by plucking feathers from a little 
bird that he had taken from its mother, out of the very nest. 

“ What is it, children ? Kill that bird, Haspar ; I’d rather 
hear a dull saw shriek ; and besides, you mustn’t be cruel — 
kill it. What is it ? Nothing, — - really a mere trifling event, 
Dame Bechlie, — simply that in a week or so Schumacker, 
the ex-chancellor, now a prisoner at Munckholm, after our 
friendly little interview at Copenhagen, and the famous Ice- 
land brigand, Hans of Klipstadur, may both come under my 
hand at the same time.” 

The red woman’s wandering glance took on an expression 
of astonishment and curiosity. 

“ Schumacker ! Hans of Iceland ! How can that be, 
Nychol ? ” 

“ Here is the whole story. Yesterday morning I met the 
whole regiment of Munckholm arquebusiers, on the Skongen 
road, at Ordal’s bridge ; they were returning to Drontheim, as 
if they had achieved some great victory. I questioned one of 
the soldiers, who condescended to reply to me, probably be- 
cause he didn’t know why I wear a red jacket, and ride in a 
red cart. I learned that the arquebusiers were returning from 
Black Column pass, after completely destroying the brigand 
mob of insurgent miners. Now, you know, old wench, that 
the rebels revolted in Schumacker’s name, and were under the 
leadership of Hans of Iceland. You know that this general 
uprising makes Hans of Iceland guilty of the choice little 
crime of insurrection against royal authority, and that in 
Schumacker’s case it is the gracious offence of high treason. 
The very natural result is, that both of these honorable gen- 
tlemen come to the gallows or the block. When you think of 
these two magnificent executions, that cannot fail to bring me 
in at least fifteen gold ducats, and make my reputation glori- 
ous throughout the two kingdoms — when you think of this, 
and that there are others of less importance ” — 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


849 


“ Do you mean to say/’ Bechlie interrupted, “ that Hans of 
Iceland has been taken ? ” 

“ Why do you interrupt your lord and master, base 
woman ? ” said the executioner. “ Yes ; the notorious and in- 
vincible Hans of Iceland has been taken, with several other 
brigand leaders, his lieutenants, who will bring me in a dozen 
crowns apiece, without reckoning what the bodies will be 
worth. He’s taken, I assure you ; and wholly to satisfy your 
curiosity you may like to know that I saw him go by under 
military guard.” 

The woman and the two children came quickly up to 
Orugix. 

“ What, you saw him, father ? ” the children exclaimed. 

“ Be quiet, children ; you make as much noise as a convict 
pleading innocence. Yes, I saw him, — a sort of giant, going 
by with his arms fastened behind his back, and his forehead 
bandaged. Probably he was wounded in the head ; but he 
needn’t worry about that, because it won’t be long before I 
shall cure him.” With this horrible jest, the executioner 
made a motion with his hand, and went on. “ Four of his 
companions, wounded the same as he was, and also prisoners, 
came behind him. They were being taken to Drontheim, 
where they are to be tried with the ex-chancellor Schumacker, 
before a tribunal of which the chief syndic will be a member, 
and over which the present grand chancellor will preside.” 

“ Father, what did the other prisoners look like ? ” 

“ The first two were old men ; one of them wore a miner’s 
hat, and the other a mountaineer’s cap. Both seemed to be 
very much cast down. Of the two others, one was a young 
miner, who went along with his head up, and whistling; the 
other - — do you remember, you infernal Bechlie, the travellers 
who came to the tower a fortnight ago, the night of the big 
storm ? ” 

“As Satan remembers the day of his fall,” the woman 
responded. 

“ Did you notice, among those strangers, a young man who 


350 


HA NS OF ICELAND. 


was in company with the old crazy doctor with a big wig, — 
a young man, I say, wearing a large green cloak, and having 
a black plume in his hat ? ” 

“Of a truth, I think I can still see him before my eyes, 
saying, ‘ Woman, we have gold/ ” 

“Well, old hag, may I never strangle anything but grouse, 
if the fourth prisoner was not that young man. ’Tis true his 
face was wholly concealed by his plume, his hat, his hair, and 
his cloak, and he went with his head down ; but he wore the 
same clothes and the same boots, and he carried himself in 
the same way. I’ll swallow the stone gibbet at Skongen at 
one gulp, if ’twas not the same man ! What do you say to 
that, Bechlie ? Won’t it be fine, after prolonging the stran- 
ger’s life by giving him food and shelter, to be called upon 
also to put an end to him, and to find that after having ex- 
perienced my hospitality, he is to know something of my 
dexterity ? ” 

The executioner chuckled sardonically for some time, and 
then went on, — 

“Now rejoice, all of you, and let us drink — yes, Bechlie, 
give me a sup of your beer, that rasps the throat like a row 
of files, and let me drink to my future advancement. Here 
you are, — health and honors to master Nychol Orugix, royal 
executioner that is to be ! I’ll confess to you, old sinner, that 
I could hardly bring myself to be willing to go to Noes for 
such a paltry job as the hanging of an obscure cabbage thief ; 
but when I had thought the matter over, I concluded that 
thirty-two ascalins were not to be disdained, and that my 
hands would not be degraded by executing common thieves 
and other scum of that kind, until after they had beheaded 
the noble count and ex-grand chancellor, and the famous Ice- 
land demon. So I resigned myself to the task of helping off 
the poor wretch at Nœs, pending the arrival of my commis- 
sion as royal executioner; and here,” he added, taking a 
leather purse from his haversack — “ here are the thirty-two 
ascalins for you, old woman.” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


351 


At this moment a blast from a horn, three times repeated, 
came from without the tower. 

“ Woman,” Orugix exclaimed, jumping up, “ those are the 
chief syndic’s archers ! ” Saying this, he hurried down the 
stairs. A moment later he reappeared, carrying a large 
parchment, of which he had broken the seal. “ There,” he 
said to the woman, “ this is what the chief syndic sends me. 
Cipher it out for me, since you could read Satan’s magic 
scroll. Perhaps it’s my commission ; for if the tribunal is to 
have a grand chancellor for its president, and a grand chancel- 
lor to try, it is no more than right that the one to carry out 
the decree should be a royal executioner.” 

The woman took the parchment ; and after looking it over 
for some time she read in a loud voice, while the children 
stared at her stupidly, — 

“ 1 In the name of the chief syndic of Drontheimhus, 
ordered : that Nyehol Orugix, provincial executioner, shall 
report at once at Drontheim, with his official axe, block, and 
black hangings.’” 

“ Is that all ? ” the executioner demanded discontentedly. 

“ That’s all,” Bechlie responded. 

“ Provincial executioner ! ” Orugix muttered. He stood for 
a moment, looking ill-naturedly at the official parchment. 
“ Well,” he said finally, “ I must obey, and get started. It 
seems they want the official axe and black hangings. You 
will take care, Bechlie, to scour the axe so that it won’t show 
a spot of rust, and see if the hangings are free from stains. 
After all, we mustn’t be discouraged ; perhaps they will grant 
me promotion as a reward for this grand execution. The 
victims are to be pitied, however, for they will not have the 
satisfaction of being put to death by a royal executioner.” 


352 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


CHAPTER XLII. 

Elvira. What can have become of poorSancho? He’s not appeared in 

the town. 

Nuno. Sancho is wise enough to keep under cover. 

Lope de Vega: The Best Alcade is the King 

The Count of Ahlefeld, trailing behind him a voluminous 
black satin robe lined with ermine, his head and shoulders 
almost hidden under an immense judicial wig, wearing on his 
breast a multitude of stars* and decorations, among them the 
collars of the royal orders of the Elephant and Dannebrog, — 
clad, in fact, in the full costume of the grand chancellor of 
Denmark and Norway, — was pacing anxiously to and fro in 
the apartments of the Countess of Ahlefeld, she being alone 
with him at that moment. 

“ Well, it’s nine o’clock, and the court is about to open 
session. There must be no delay; for judgment must be 
rendered during the night, so that it may be carried out to- 
morrow morning at the latest. The chief syndic has assured 
me that the executioner will be here before dawn. Elphega, 
have you given orders that a boat shall be ready to take me 
to Munckholm ? ” 

“ My lord, it has been waiting for you for at least half an 
hour,” the countess responded, sitting upright in her easy chair. 

“ And is my litter at the door ? ” 

“ Yes, my lord.” 

“Very good. And you say, Elphega,” the count went on, 
tapping his forehead, “that there is a love-affair between 
Ordener Guldenlew and Schumacker’s daughter ? ” 

“A good deal of a love-affair, I can swear to you,” the 
countess replied, smiling with anger and disdain. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


353 


11 Who would have thought it ? And yet, I assure you, I 
suspected something of the sort.” 

“ And I also/’ said the countess. “ It’s a trick that ac- 
cursed Levin has played on us.” 

“ The old Mecklemburg scoundrel ! ” the chancellor mut- 
tered. “Well, I’ll fix it with Arensdorf — if I could get 
him disgraced ! Why, see here ; listen to me, Elphega — 
here’s a ray of light.” 

“ What is it ? ” 

“ You know that there are six persons who are about to be 
tried at Munckholm fortress, — Schumacker, whom I shall be 
no longer in fear of, I hope, by to-morrow at this hour ; the 
giant mountaineer, our false Hans of Iceland, who has sworn 
to play the part to the end, thinking that Musdcemon, who 
has already given him a lot of money, will get him off — that 
Musdcemon has some really diabolical ideas! — the three 
rebel leaders ; and an unknown fellow, who mixed himself up 
in some way with the gathering at Apsylcorh, and who, 
through Musdoemon’s precautions, has fallen into our hands. 
Musdœmon thinks that the man is one of Levin de Knud’s 
spies ; and, in fact, when he was brought here as a prisoner, 
the first thing he did was to ask for the general ; and when he 
found out that the Mecklemburger was away, he seemed to be 
completely crushed. It appears, too, that he has not been 
willing to respond to any of Musdoemon’s questions.” 

“ My dear lord,” the countess interrupted, “ why have you 
not interrogated him yourself ? ” 

“ Be reasonable, Elphega : how could I, with all the duties 
that have come upon me since my arrival ? I trusted the 
matter to Musdcemon, who is just as much concerned as I am. 
You must remember, too, my dear, that this man is of no im- 
portance as an individual ; he’s some poor vagabond. The 
only way we can get any good from him will be in claiming 
that he is one of Levin de Knud’s agents ; and as he was taken 
in the rebel ranks, that perhaps will show that there was some 
treasonable understanding between Schumacker and the Meek- 


354 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


lemburger, and that will perhaps suffice to throw discredit on 
the infernal* Levin, if it does not subject him to a judicial 
inquiry.” 

“ You are right, my lord,” said the countess, after a 
moment’s thought ; “ but what about Baron Tliorvick’s fatal 
passion for Ethel Schumacker ? ” 

The chancellor tapped his forehead again, and shrugged his 
shoulders. 

“ See here, Elphega, you and I are not young or novices in 
life, and yet we do not understand men ! When Schumacker 
is for a second time branded with high treason, and is once 
more brought to the scaffold and punished for infamy ; when 
his daughter is cast down beneath the lowest social ranks, and 
stained forever in public opinion with her father’s shame — 
do you suppose, Elphega, that Ordener Guldenlew will then 
for a moment remember his childish intrigue, which you call 
passion, because you have been influenced by the high-flown 
talk of a foolish young prisoner — do you think he will hesi- 
tate for a single day between the dishonored daughter of a 
wretched criminal and the illustrious daughter of an eminent 
chancellor? We must judge men by ourselves, my dear; 
when have you ever had reason to think that the human heart 
is made up in that way ? ” 

“ I hope that you may be right. You will not, however, 
regard as useless, I trust, the request which I made of the 
syndic, that Schumacker’s daughter might be present at her 
father’s trial, and be placed in the same gallery with me ? I 
am very desirous of having a chance to study the creature.” 

“ Anything that will help us to understand the affair any 
better is quite worth while,” said the chancellor carelessly. 
“ But, tell me, is Ordener’s whereabouts known at this 
moment ? ” 

“Not to any one; he’s a worthy ward to old Levin, and a 
knight errant, like him. I believe he is just now at Wardhus.” 

“ Well, well, our Ulrica will tie him down. There, I for- 
got that the court is waiting for me.” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


355 


“One word more, my lord,” said the countess, detaining 
the grand chancellor. “I spoke to you about it yesterday; 
but you were very much preoccupied, and I could get no 
response. Where is my Frederic ? ” 

“ Frederic ! ” said the count, with a lugubrious expression, 
putting his hand to his face. 

“ Yes ; answer me — my Frederic ! His regiment has re- 
turned to Drontheim without him. Swear to me that Frederic 
was not in that horrible Black Column pass. Why did you 
look so at Frederic’s name ? I am terribly anxious.” 

“ Elphega,” said the chancellor, resuming his expression of 
impassivity, “ don’t be uneasy. I swear to you that he was 
not in Black Column pass. Moveover, the list of officers 
killed and wounded in that affair has been published.” 

“ Yes,” said the countess, calming down ; “ you make me 
feel easier. Only two officers were killed, — Captain Lory 
and young Baron Randmer, who was such a gay second to my 
poor Frederic at the Copenhagen festivities. Oh, yes ; I have 
read the list more than once, I assure you. But, tell me, my 
lord, did my son remain at Wahlstrom ? ” 

“ He remained there,” the count responded. 

“ Well, dear friend,” said the mother, with a smile which 
she tried to make affectionate, “ I only ask one favor of you, 
and that is to get my Frederic back from that dreadful coun- 
try as quickly as possible.” 

The chancellor disengaged himself with difficulty from her 
supplicating embrace. 

“Madam,” he said, “the court is waiting. Farewell ; what 
you ask does not depend upon me.” 

He went out quickly, and the countess was wrapped up in 
gloomy thoughts. 

“ Does not depend on him,” she said to herself ; “ and he 
has only to utter a word to bring my son back to me ! I have 
always thought him to be a man without a grain of goodness 
in his heart.” 


356 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


CHAPTER XLIII. 

Is it thus that a man of my condition should he treated ? Is it thus that 
respect for justice should be sacrificed ? — Calderon : Luis Perez of 
Galicia. 

The trembling Ethel, separated from her father by the 
guards when they came out of the Lion of Schleswig donjon, 
was led through gloomy corridors that she had never seen 
before, into an ill-lighted cell, where she was fastened in. 
Through a large barred opening in the side of the cell oppo- 
site to the door, she could see the light of flaming torches. In 
front of the opening was a bench, where a woman, w r earing a 
veil and clad in black, was sitting. She motioned to Ethel to 
sit at her side ; and the girl obeyed in timid silence, and looked 
out through the barred opening. A sombre and imposing pic- 
ture was before her. 

She saw a hall hung in black, and partly illuminated by 
copper lamps hanging from the ceiling, and at one end of the 
apartment a black bench, shaped like a horseshoe, occupied 
by seven judges wearing black robes, one of them sitting in 
the middle, somewhat higher than the others, with diamond 
chains and gold medals sparkling on his breast. The judge 
sitting on the right of the place of honor wore a white girdle 
and an ermine mantle, the insignia of the chief syndic of the 
province. At the right of the bench was a platform sur- 
mounted by a canopy, where an old man sat, dressed in full 
pontificals. At the left was a table strewn with papers, be- 
hind which stood a short man, wearing an enormous wig, and 
an ample long black robe. In front of the judges was a 
wooden bench, surrounded by halberdiers carrying torches, the 
light flashing from a multitude of lances, muskets, and parti- 
sans, and sending flickering rays over the thronging heads of 


BANS OF ICELAND. 


857 


a crowd of spectators who pressed against the barrier separat- 
ing them from the court. 

Ethel watched the scene as if she had been in a waking 
dream, but she was far from being indifferent to what was 
going on before her eyes. An inner voice warned her to pay 
careful attention, and that she was close upon a critical mo- 
ment in her life. Her heart was agitated by two conflicting 
emotions at one and the same time ; she felt that she would 
like to know at once what it was that interested her in the 
scene she was watching, or else that she might never know it 
at all. For several days her conviction that Ordener was lost 
to her had inspired her with a desperate desire to put an end 
to her own existence, and to be able to read at a single glance 
the entire book of destiny. Thus it was that, understanding 
that she had come to the decisive hour of her fate, she scruti- 
nized the lugubrious picture presented to her, not so much with 
repugnance, as with a sort of impatient and gloomy joy. She 
saw the president get up, and announce in the king’s name 
that the court had begun its session. She heard the little 
man in black at the left reading, in a low voice and rapidly, a 
long discourse in which her father’s name frequently appeared, 
intermingled with the words “ conspiracy,” “ miners’ revolt,” 
and “high treason.” Then she remembered what the hateful 
stranger had told her in the donjon garden of the accusation 
with which her father was menaced, and she shuddered when 
she heard the man in the black robe bring his allocution to 
an end with the word “ death ” loudly spoken. In her alarm 
she turned to the veiled woman, towards whom for some in- 
explicable reason she had a sensation of fear. 

“ Where are we ? What does all this mean ? ” she asked 
timidly. 

A gesture from her mysterious companion urged her to be 
silent and attend. She looked again into the hall where the 
court was sitting. The venerable old man in ecclesiastical 
attire had just arisen ; and Ethel heard these words, which he 
uttered very distinctly, — 


358 


DANS OF ICELAND. 


“ In the name of the all-powerful and merciful God, I, Pam- 
philus Eleuthera, bishop of the royal city of Drontheim and 
the royal province of Drontheimhus, make my salutation to 
the honorable tribunal which renders judgment in the name of 
the king, who is our ruler next to God ; and I say that having 
observed that the prisoners brought before this court are men 
and Christians, and that they are without counsel, I make 
known to the honorable judges that my intention is to assist 
them, with such feeble aid as I can, in the trying position in 
which Heaven has seen fit to place them, praying God to deign 
to add his strength to our humble weakness, and to give his 
light to our unmitigated blindness; and so I, bishop of the 
royal diocese, present my salutations to this honorable and 
impartial tribunal.” 

Having thus spoken, the bishop came down from his pontifi- 
cal throne, and took his seat on the wooden bench reserved for 
the prisoners, while a murmur of approbation swept through 
the throng. The president got up, and said in formal tones : 

“ Halberdiers, see that order is observed ! My lord bishop, 
the court thanks your reverence in the name of the prisoners. 
Citizens of Drontheimhus, be attentive to the king’s high 
court of justice; this tribunal renders a verdict without ap- 
peal. Archers, bring in the accused.” 

Silence, inspired by anxiety and terror, pervaded the assem- 
bly ; but the people’s heads could be seen moving about in the 
obscurity like the gloomy waves of a stormy sea, over which 
the thunderbolt is on the point of crashing. In a moment 
Ethel heard a confused murmur and unusual commotion be- 
neath her, in the ominous approaches to the hall ; then the 
assembly opened a path with impatient and feverish haste, the 
tramp of many feet was heard, halberds and muskets glistened, 
and then six men in chains and surrounded by guards came 
bareheaded into the open space before the judges. Ethel saw 
only the first of the six prisoners, — an old white-bearded 
man in a black gown ; ’twas her father. Almost fainting, she 
leaned upon the stone balustrade in front of the bench where 


IIANS OF ICELAND. 


359 


she was sitting. Everything went round her in a dizzy whirl, 
and it seemed to her that her heart was beating in her ears. 
She said in feeble tones, — 

“ 0 God, succor me ! ” 

The veiled woman leaned towards her with a vial of smell- 
ing-salts, which revived her. 

“ Noble lady,” said the girl, “ say one word, I beg of you, 
to convince me that I am not the sport of infernal phantoms.” 

But the unknown remained deaf to her entreaty, and turned 
her head toward the tribunal; and poor Ethel, who by this 
time had after a fashion recovered her strength, resigned her- 
self to doing likewise, in silence. The president arose, and 
said in a slow and solemn voice, — 

“ Prisoners, you have been brought before us that we may 
examine you, to determine whether or not you are guilty of 
high treason, conspiracy, and armed insurrection against the 
authority of our sovereign lord, the king. Consider carefully, 
and let conscience speak for you, since the accusation of 
leze-majesty in the first degree is hanging over your heads.” 

At that moment a ray of light fell upon the face of one of 
the six prisoners, — a young man, with his head bowed upon 
his breast, as if to conceal his features under his long curly 
hair. Ethel shuddered, and a cold perspiration broke out 
upon her body ; she thought she recognized — but no, it was 
a cruel illusion. The hall was dimly lighted, and men moved 
about like shadows. She could scarcely distinguish the great 
Christ of polished ebony posed above the president’s arm- 
chair. Nevertheless, the young man wore a cloak which 
looked to be green in the distance, and his dishevelled hair 
had a chestnut tint ; moreover, the light that had fallen by 
chance upon his features — but no, she was mistaken ; it 
could not be; it was a horrible illusion. 

The prisoners seated themselves upon the bench with the 
bishop, Schumacker placed at one end, separated from the 
young man with chestnut hair by his four companions in 
misfortune, who were roughly dressed, one of them being 


360 


HANS OF ICELAND . 


almost a giant. The bishop sat at the other end of the 
bench. Ethel saw the president turn toward her father. 

“ Old man/’ he said sternly, “ tell us your name, and who 
you are.” 

“ There was a time,” the prisoner responded, lifting his 
venerable head, and looking fixedly at the president, “ when 
I was called Count of Griffenfeld and Tonsberg, Prince of 
Wollin, Prince of the Holy Empire, Knight of the royal Or- 
der of the Elephant, Knight of the royal Order of Dannebrog, 
Knight of the Golden Eleece of Germany and of the Garter 
of England, prime minister, inspector-general of the universi- 
ties, grand chancellor of Denmark, and ” — 

“ Prisoner,” the president interrupted, “ the court does not 
ask what you were named, or what you have been, but what 
your name is, and who you are.” 

“Very good,” the old man responded briskly, “my name 
now is John Schumacker. I am sixty-nine years old, and I 
am nothing but your former benefactor, Chancellor Ahlefeld.” 
The president was manifestly embarrassed. “I recognized 
you, my lord count,” the ex-chancellor added, “ and, thinking 
that you were not so well informed as I, took the liberty of 
recalling to your grace the fact that we are old acquaint- 
ances.” 

“ Schumacker,” said the president, in a tone expressive of 
ill-concealed anger, “do not intrude upon the time at the 
disposal of the court.” 

“We have changed places, noble chancellor,” said the old 
prisoner, once more interrupting; “once I called you simply 
Ahlefeld, and you addressed me as my lord count.” 

“Prisoner,” the president responded, “you do injury to 
your own cause by recalling the conviction for infamy, in 
accordance with which you have already been disgraced.” 

“If that conviction was infamous for any one, Count of 
Ahlefeld, it was not so for me.” 

The old man half rose to his feet to give greater emphasis 
to his words. The president thrust out his hand. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


361 


“ Be seated. Do not offer insult, before this court, to the 
judges who condemned you, and to the king who gave you a 
fair trial. Remember that his majesty deigned to grant you 
your life, and now devote yourself to your defence.” Schu- 
macker made no response, except with a shrug of the shoul- 
ders. “ Have you,” the president demanded, “ any avowal to 
make to the court touching the high crime of which you are 
accused ? ” Seeing that Schumacker remained silent, the pres- 
ident repeated his question. 

“ Are you speaking to me ? ” said the ex-grand chancellor. 
“ I thought, noble Count of Ahlefeld, that you were speaking 
to yourself. To what crime do you have reference ? Have 
I ever given the Judas kiss to a friend ? Have I imprisoned, 
condemned, and dishonored a benefactor, or despoiled him to 
whom I owe my all ? To tell you the truth, my lord chan- 
cellor, I do not know why I have been brought here. No 
doubt it is that I may judge of your ability in bringing inno- 
cent heads to the dust. I shall not be sorry, I assure you, to 
see if you can succeed as well in ruining me as in ruining the 
kingdom, and if a comma will suffice to bring me to my death, 
as a letter of the alphabet once proved to be enough to bring 
about war with Sweden.” 1 

This ironical speech was barely brought to an end, when the 
man behind the table, at the left of the court, rose to his feet. 

“ My lord president,” he said with a low bow, “my lord 
judges, I demand that John Schumacker be denied the privi- 
lege of speaking, if he continues in this way to insult his 
grace, the president of this honorable tribunal.” 

1 As a matter of fact, there were very serious differences between Den- 
mark and Sweden, because the Count of Ahlefeld, in the negotiation of a 
treaty between the two countries, had insisted on giving the Danish king 
the title of Rex Gothorum, which implied that the Danish monarch had 
sovereignty over the Swedish province of Gothland, while the Swedes were 
willing to grant no more than that he should he styled Rex Gotorum, — 
a vague distinction, equivalent to the ancient title of the Danish sovereigns, 
“king of the Gots.” It was to this “ h,” which was the cause, not of a 
war, hut of prolonged and threatening negotiations, that Schumacker doubt- 
less made allusion. 


362 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“Mr. Confidential Secretary/’ said the bishop tranquilly, 
“the right to address the court cannot be denied to a pris- 
oner.” 

“ You are right, reverend bishop,” the president exclaimed 
quickly. “ Our intention is to allow to the defence the ut- 
most possible latitude. I shall only suggest to the accused 
that he moderate his language, if he would consider his own 
best interests.” 

“It seems,” said Schumacker coldly, shaking his head, 
“ that the Count of Ahlefeld is more sure of his facts than 
he was in 1677.” 

“Be silent,” said the president; and addressing himself 
immediately to the prisoner sitting next to the old man, he 
asked him for his name. A mountaineer of colossal stature, 
with his head bandaged, stood up and said, — 

“ I am Hans of Klipstadur in Iceland.” 

A shudder of horror ran through the crowd ; and Schumacker 
raised his head, which he had already let fall in meditation 
upon his breast, and cast a sharp glance at the formidable 
companion, from whom the other prisoners kept as far away 
as possible. 

“ Hans of Iceland,” the president demanded when the audi- 
ence had become quiet, “what have you to say to the court?” 

Among all the spectators, Ethel was the least impressed 
with the presence of the famous brigand, who had for so long 
a time figured in her fancy as an object of terror. She looked 
with timid curiosity at the great giant, with whom perhaps 
her Ordener had fought, and by whom perhaps he had been 
slain. This idea kept coming back into her mind, in all sorts 
of painful guises. Entirely absorbed in her agonizing emo- 
tions, she scarcely heard the response which Hans of Iceland 
— the possible murderer of her Ordener — made in stumbling 
and embarrassed speech to the president’s inquiries. She only 
understood that the brigand declared himself to be the leader 
of the insurgents. 

“Was it because of your own idea,” the president asked, 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


363 


“ or through the instigation of another, that you took com- 
mand of the rebels ? ” 

“ It was not my own idea,” the brigand responded. 

“ Who led you to commit such a crime ? ” 

“ A man calling himself Hacket.” 

“ Who was this Hacket ? ” 

“ An agent for Schumacker, called also Count of Griffen- 
feld.” 

“ Schumacker,” said the president, addressing the old man, 
“ do you know this Hacket ? ” 

“ You anticipate my own question, Count of Ahlefeld,” the 
old man responded ; “ I was about to ask you the same thing.” 

“ John Schumacker,” said the president, “ your hatred 
makes you ill-advised. The court will give proper considera- 
tion to your method of conducting your defence.” 

“ Mr. Confidential Secretary,” said the bishop, turning 
toward the little man who seemed to be carrying out the 
functions of clerk and prosecuting attorney, “is this Hacket 
among your witnesses ? ” 

“ No, your reverence,” the secretary responded. 

“ Is it known what has become of him ? ” 

“ He has avoided arrest ; he has disappeared.” 

In making these replies, the confidential secretary seemed 
to have some trouble in keeping his voice firm. 

“ My opinion is that he has vanished into thin air,” said 
Schumacker. 

“ Mr. Secretary,” the bishop went on, “ has any effort been 
made to follow up this man Hacket ? Have you a descrip- 
tion of him ? ” 

Before the confidential secretary had time to respond, one 
of the prisoners got up, — a young miner, with a stern, proud 
face. 

“ It can easily be had,” he said in a loud voice. u That 
wretch, Hacket, Schumacker’s agent, is a short man with an 
open face, — open like one of the mouths of hell. Believe me, 
my lord bishop, his voice is very much like that of the gentle- 


364 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


man writing at the table, whom your reverence calls, I believe, 
a confidential secretary ; and if the hall were not so dark, and 
if Mr. Confidential Secretary had less hair to conceal his face, 
I should be willing to swear that there was something in his 
features closely resembling those of Hacket the traitor.” 

“ Our brother speaks truly,” the two prisoners sitting next 
the young miner exclaimed. 

“ Well, well ! ” Schum acker muttered, with an expression 
of triumph. 

Meanwhile the secretary had made an involuntary move- 
ment, perhaps of fear, perhaps of indignation, at being com- 
pared to Hacket. The president, who himself seemed to be 
somewhat annoyed, spoke up quickly, in a loud voice, — 

“ Prisoners, do not forget that you should speak only in 
response to questions asked by the- court, and above all do not 
insult ministers of justice by making unworthy comparisons.” 

“ And yet, my lord president,” said the bishop, “ this has a 
bearing upon the question of identity. If the guilty man, 
Hacket, has any points of resemblance to the secretary, it 
will be worth while to know them.” 

“ Hans of Iceland,” the president interrupted, “ you have 
been intimately associated with Hacket ; tell us, for the satis- 
faction of the reverend bishop, if the fellow has any resem- 
blance to our highly honored confidential secretary ? ” 

“ Not in the least, my lord,” the giant responded without 
hesitation. 

“ You see, my lord bishop,” the president added. 

The bishop indicated acquiescence with a nod of the head ; 
and the president, addressing himself to the next prisoner, 
went through the usual formula, — 

“ What is your name ? ” 

u Wilfrid Kennybol, of the Kole mountains.” 

“ Were you among the insurgents ? ” 

“ Yes, my lord ; truth is more precious than life. I was 
taken in the infernal Black Column pass. I was leader of the 
mountaineers.” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


365 


“ What led you into the crime of rebellion ? ” 

“ Our brothers, the miners, complained of the royal guard- 
ianship; and that’s very easy to understand, is it not, your 
excellency ? If you had only a mud hut and two rotten fox- 
skins, you wouldn’t be sorry to have them for your own. The 
government would not listen to their petitions ; then, my lord, 
they decided upon a revolt, and begged us to aid them. Such 
a little service as that is not refused between brothers who 
repeat the same prayers and keep the same holy days. That’s 
the whole story.” 

“ Did no one,” the president inquired, “ stir up, encourage, 
and take charge of the insurrection ? ” 

“ Yes ; a certain Master Hacket, who was always talking 
about the deliverance of some count imprisoned at Munck- 
holm, whose envoy he claimed to be. We promised to do 
what he wanted, because an extra stroke at liberation would 
not cost us anything.” 

“ And was not this count called Schumacker Griffenfeld ? ” 

“ Just that, your excellency.” 

“ You never saw him ? ” 

“ No, my lord ; but if he is the old man who reeled off so 
many names to you a little while ago, I cannot fail to con- 
clude ” — 

“ What ? ” the president interrupted. 

“ That he has a magnificent white beard, my lord ; almost 
as fine as that of my sister Maase’s husband’s father, of Surb 
village, who has lived to be a hundred and twenty.” 

The light was so dim in the hall that no one could see 
whether the president showed disappointment at the moun- 
taineer’s artless response. He ordered the archers to unfold 
a number of flame-colored banners that had been brought into 
the court-room. 

“ Wilfrid Kennybol,” he said, “do you recognize these 
banners ? ” 

“ Yes, your excellency ; they were given us by Hacket, in 
Count Schumacker’s name. The count also sent arms for the 


366 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


miners; for we mountaineers, who live by the carbine and 
game-bag, had no need of any. Why, my lord, although you 
see me here, trussed up like a chicken ready for the roast, I 
have many a time, as I stood in the depths of one of our 
valleys, brought down an old eagle, flying so high that it 
seemed to be nothing but a swallow or a thrush.” 

“ I call upon you to observe, my lord judges,” the confi- 
dential secretary interposed, “ that Schumacker, the accused, 
distributed weapons and banners through Hacket’s agency.” 

“ Kennybol,” the president resumed, “ have you anything 
more to say ? ” 

“Nothing, your excellency, except that I do not deserve 
death. I have done nothing but render assistance in a 
fraternal way to the miners; and I am willing to swear to 
all your excellencies that, hunter though I am, no bullet from 
my carbine ever touched a stag belonging to the king.” 

Without responding to this plea, the president interrogated 
Kennybol’s two companions. They were the leaders of the 
miners. The elder, who gave his name as Jonas, repeated in 
substance what Kennybol had said. The other — the young 
man who had discerned so much resemblance between the 
confidential secretary and the perfidious Hacket — said that 
he was called Norbith, and confessed proudly to the part he 
took in the revolt, but refused to make any revelations con- 
cerning Hacket and Schumacker. He declared that he had 
sworn to keep silence, and he could remember nothing but 
that oath. In vain the president interrogated him with 
threats and entreaties; the obstinate young man refused to 
yield. He did, however, give the assurance that he had not 
taken up arms in Schumacker’ s behalf, but simply because 
his old mother was cold and hungry. He did not deny that 
he was perhaps deserving of death ; but he aifirmed that in- 
justice would be committed in condemning him, because in 
killing him, they would kill his poor mother, who merited no 
such fate. 

When Norbith finished speaking, the confidential secretary 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


367 


summed up in a few words the evidence, which up to this 
point bore so heavily upon the accused, and especially upon 
Schumacker. He read some of the seditious legends inscribed 
upon the banners, and pointed out how clearly the guilt of 
the ex-grand chancellor was indicated in the unanimous testi- 
mony of his accomplices, and even in the silence maintained 
by young Norbith in deference to a fanatical oath. 

“ In conclusion,” he added, “ there remains but one prisoner 
to interrogate; and we have excellent reasons for thinking 
him to be the secret agent of the official who has so ineffec- 
tively maintained public tranquillity in Drontheimhus. This 
official, either by guilty connivance or fatal negligence, has 
facilitated the insurrection which will end in the destruction 
of all these poor wretches, and bring Schumacker again to the 
scaffold, from which he was once so generously spared through 
the clemency of the king.” 

Ethel, whose fears for Ordener had been supplanted by no 
less painful trepidation concerning her father’s fate, trembled 
at this sinister language, and a torrent of tears escaped from 
her eyes when she saw her father get up, and heard him say 
in a tranquil voice, — 

“ Chancellor Ahlefeld, I admire your foresight. Were you 
so thoughtful as to send for the executioner ? ” 

The unfortunate girl believed in that moment that she had 
drunk the last drop of bitterness, but she was mistaken. The 
sixth prisoner arose. His bearing was proud and noble, as he 
brushed aside the hair that fell about his face, and responded 
in firm, clear tones to the question addressed to him by the 
president, — 

“My name is Ordener Guldenlew, Baron of Thorvick, 
Knight of Hannebrog.” 

“ The viceroy’s son ! ” said the secretary with an exclama- 
tion of surprise. 

“ The viceroy’s son ! ” voices repeated on every side, as if 
the hall were furnished with a thousand echoes. 

The president sank back into his chair ; and the other judges, 


368 


HANS OF ICELAND . 


who until then had been sitting in perfect quietude upon the 
bench, now turned eagerly toward one another, like trees 
swayed from side to side by opposing winds. The excite- 
ment among the spectators was even more pronounced. They 
climbed up on the stone cornices and iron gratings, moved as 
it were by a common impulse ; and the guards, forgetting to 
enforce order, mingled their own utterances of surprise in the 
general tumult. 

What mind, however well accustomed to unexpected emo- 
tions, can conceive of what took place at that moment in 
Ethel’s heart ? Who could describe the extraordinary combi- 
nation of agonizing joy and exquisite pain which she experi- 
enced, — that restless expectation, made up of both fear and 
hope, and yet which was neither ? He was there in her pres- 
ence, and knew not that she was near ; her eyes sought his, 
and met with no response ! It was her beloved Ordener, — 
her Ordener, whom she had believed to be dead, whom she 
knew to be lost to her, the friend who had deceived her, and 
whom she adored with undiminished adoration. He was 
there ; yes, he was there. It was no dream by which she 
was deluded ; oh, yes ; it was really he, her Ordener, who, alas, 
had visited her much more often in dreams than in reality ! 
Had he made his appearance amid these solemn surround- 
ings as a guardian angel, or as a genius of destruction? 
Should she rest her hopes on him, or tremble before him ? A 
thousand conjectures weighed upon her mind, and repressed 
its action, as an excess of fuel stifles flame. The whole 
sequence of ideas and sensations that we have indicated went 
through her heart like a lightning flash, at the instant when 
the viceroy’s son uttered his name. She was the first to 
recognize him, and the others had not realized his identity 
before she swooned away. 

She soon came back to consciousness once again, thanks to 
the solicitude of her mysterious companion. Her face was 
very pale as she opened her eyes, from which the tears had 
suddenly ceased to flow. She glanced eagerly at the young 


RAN S OF ICELAND. 


869 


man, who stood erect and calm amid the general tumult, — an 
eager, all-devouring glance; and even after the judges and the 
spectators had become quiet again, Ordener Guldenlew’s name 
still rang in her ears. She noticed with profound anxiety 
that he wore one arm in a sling, and that his hands were man- 
acled. She noticed that his cloak was torn in several places, 
and that his faithful sword no longer hung at his side. Noth- 
ing escaped her scrutiny, for a lover’s eye is like a mother’s. 
She brooded in spirit over the being whom she could not sus- 
tain in person ; and it must be confessed, to the shame and 
the glory of love, that in the hall where her father and her 
father’s persecutors confronted one another, Ethel saw no one 
but Ordener. 

Silence had been restored little by little, and the president 
resumed his interrogation of the viceroy’s son. 

“ My lord baron,” he began in a wavering voice. 

“ I am not my lord baron here,” Ordener interrupted 
gravely ; “ my name is Ordener Guldenlew, by the same token 
that he who was the Count of Griffenfeld is simply John 
Schumacker.” 

The president seemed to be stricken dumb for a moment, 
and then went on, — 

“Very good; Ordener Guldenlew, doubtless it is because 
of an unhappy mischance that you have been brought here. 
The rebels took you prisoner in the course of your travels, 
and you were obliged to go with them, and for this reason 
you were found in their ranks.” 

“Honorable judges,” said the secretary, rising to his feet, 
« the name alone of the son of Norway’s viceroy is ample for 
his release. Baron Ordener Guldenlew cannot be a rebel. 
Our illustrious president has clearly explained how it came to 
pass that he was taken among the insurgents. The only error 
that the noble prisoner has committed lies in his not having 
sooner made known his name. We request that he be at once 
set at liberty ; and we abandon the accusations made against 
him, regretting that he has been made to take his place on 


870 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


the prisoners’ bench, defiled by the criminal Schumacher and 
his accomplices.” 

“ What is the meaning of this ? ” Ordener exclaimed. 

“ The confidential secretary withdraws the charges against 
you,” said the president. 

“He is in the wrong,” Ordener responded in clear, ringing 
tones ; “ I am the only one here who should be accused, tried, 
and convicted,” — he paused a moment, and added with less 
assured earnestness, — “ for I alone am guilty.” 

“ You alone guilty ! ” the president exclaimed. 

“ You alone guilty ! ” the confidential secretary repeated.. 

Renewed manifestations of surprise were exhibited by the 
spectators. The unfortunate Ethel trembled ; she did not 
dream that this declaration on the part of her lover would be 
her father’s salvation. The possibility of Ordener’s death 
filled her whole mind. 

“ Halberdiers, preserve order in court ! ” said the president, 
perhaps taking advantage of the momentary disturbance to 
collect his thoughts, and regain his presence of mind. “ Or- 
dener Guldenlew, explain yourself,” he said finally. 

The young man seemed to be absorbed in revery for a mo- 
ment, then he sighed deeply, and spoke as follows, in an accent 
of calm resignation, — 

“ I’m very well aware that an infamous death awaits me ; 
I know that my life might be fair and glorious ; but God can 
read the truth at the bottom of my heart, and God alone. I 
am about to accomplish the foremost duty of my existence. I 
am going to sacrifice to it my blood, perhaps my honor ; but 
I am confident that I shall die without remorse and without 
repentance. Do not be astonished at my words, honorable 
judges; the heart of man and human destiny contain mysteries 
that you cannot pass upon, and that are finally brought to judg- 
ment only in heaven. Listen to me, then, and decide my fate 
as conscience demands, when you have absolved these unfor- 
tunate men, and especially the unhappy Schumacker, who 
already has expiated in captivity more crimes than one man 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


371 


could ever be able to commit. Yes; I am guilty, honorable 
judges, and I alone am guilty. Schumacker is innocent ; these 
other poor wretches were only deluded. The author of the 
miners’ rebellion was myself.” 

“ You ! ” the president and the confidential secretary ex- 
claimed in concert, and with astonishment on their faces. 

“ Yes, I ; and do not interrupt me again, my lords. I am 
anxious to bring this matter to an end, for in accusing myself 
I clear these Unfortunates. ’Twas I who stirred up the mi- 
ners in Schumacker’s name ; ’twas I who had banners distrib- 
uted among the rebels ; ’twas I who sent them money and 
weapons as coming from the Munckholm prisoner. Hacket 
was my agent.” 

When the name Hacket was spoken, the confidential secre- 
tary made a gesture of stupefaction. Ordener went on, — 

“ I will not trespass on your time, my lords. I was taken 
in company with the miners, whom I had inspired to revolt. 
I alone planned everything ; and now, render your verdict. If 
I have demonstrated my culpability, I have also proved Schu- 
macker’s innocence, and the innocence of the poor wretches 
whom you believe to be his accomplices.” 

As he spoke these words, the young man stood with up- 
lifted eyes. Ethel sat like a statue, and could scarcely 
breathe ; it seemed to her that in justifying her father, Or- 
dener uttered his name with a good deal of bitterness. His 
speech astonished and alarmed her, and at the same time she 
could not comprehend its meaning. In all that she had seen 
and heard, only one thing was clear to her, and that was 
misery. 

Something of the same feeling seemed to possess the presi- 
dent. He appeared to the lookers-on like a man who could 
not believe the testimony of his own senses. However, he 
once more began to question the viceroy’s son, — 

“If it is true that you are the sole author of this revolt, 
what object did you have in view ? ” 

“ I cannot say.” 


372 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


Ethel shuddered when she heard the president retort in an 
irritable way, — 

“ Did you not have an intrigue with Schumacker’ s daugh- 
ter ? ” 

Manacled as he was, Ordener took a step toward the judges, 
and exclaimed in indignation, — 

“ Chancellor Ahlefeld, be content with the life I deliver up 
to you, and respect a noble and innocent girl. Do not at- 
tempt to dishonor her a second time.” 

Poor Ethel, who felt the blood suffusing her face, did not 
understand at all the significance of the words “ a second 
time,” upon which her defender laid so much emphasis ; but 
the anger depicted in the countenance of the president showed 
plainly enough that he understood. 

“ Ordener Guldenlew, see that you do not forget the respect 
that you owe to the king’s justice and its supreme representa- 
tives. I reprimand you, in the name of the court. Once 
more, I call upon you to declare the object that you had in 
view when you committed the crime of which you accuse 
yourself.” 

“ I repeat that I cannot say.” 

“ Was it not to deliver Schumacker ? ” the secretary inter- 
posed. Ordener remained silent. 

“ You are on trial, and you must answer,” said the presi- 
dent. “ It has been proved that you were in communication 
with Schumacker; and your avowal of culpability involves, 
rather than absolves, the Munckholm prisoner. You went 
often to Munckholm ; and certainly your motive in making 
those visits was something more than ordinary curiosity, as 
this diamond buckle bears witness.” 

The president took a gleaming buckle from his desk, where 
it had been lying, and showed it to Ordener. 

“ Do you recognize it as having belonged to you ? ” 

“ Yes. How did it happen ” — 

“ Well, one of the rebels, who was at the point of death, 
gave it into the possession of our confidential secretary, de- 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


873 


daring that he had received it from yon, in payment for 
taking you from Drontheim harbor to Munckholm fortress. 
Now, I ask of you, my lord judges, when such a reward is 
given to a humble boatman, does it not indicate the impor- 
tance that the accused Ordener Guldenlew attached to his 
visit to the prison where Schumacker was in custody ? ” 

“ Ah,” Kennybol exclaimed, “ what his excellency says is 
true. I recognize the buckle ; our poor brother, Guidon Stay- 
per, told me the story.” 

“ Silence,” said the president; "let Ordener Guldenlew 
make answer.” 

a I do not deny,” Ordener responded, “ that I was desirous 
of seeing Schumacker; but the buckle has no significance. 
Visitors are not allowed to enter the fortress wearing dia- 
monds ; the boatman who took me over bewailed his poverty, 
so I threw the buckle to him, since I could not keep it 
myself.” 

“ Pardon me, your excellency,” the confidential secretary 
interposed, “the regulations make an exception in favor of 
the viceroy’s son. You might, therefore,” — 

“ I did not wish to give my name.” 

“ Why ? ” the president inquired. 

“ As to that, I cannot tell you.” . 

“ Your interviews with Schumacker and his daughter prove 
that the object of your plot was to secure their freedom.” 

Schumacker, who up to this time had given no other evi- 
dence of attention than an occasional disdainful shrug, now 
arose. 

“ To secure my freedom ! The object of this infernal con- 
spiracy was to compromise and ruin me, and is so still. Can 
you believe that Ordener Guldenlew would have avowed his 
participation in the crime if he had not been taken among 
the insurgents ? Oh, I see that he has inherited his father’s 
hatred for me. And as to the interviews which he is sup- 
posed to have held with me and my daughter, this execrable 
Guldenlew knows full well that my daughter has inherited 


374 


HANS OF ICELAND . 


my hatred for him, and for the whole race of Guldenlews and 
Ahlefelds ! ” 

Ordener sighed deeply, while Ethel disavowed what her 
father had said under her breath, and the old man fell back 
upon the bench, still trembling with anger. 

“ The court will decide,” said the president. 

Ordener, who had lowered his eyes in silence while Schu- 
macker was speaking, now roused himself, — 

“ Oh, listen, noble judges. You are about to render a con- 
scientious verdict ; do not forget that Ordener Guldenlew 
alone is guilty, and that Schumacker is innocent. These 
other unfortunate fellows have been deceived by Hacket, who 
was my agent. I did all the rest.” 

“ His excellency speaks truly, my lord judges,” Kennybol 
interposed ; “ for ’twas he who took upon himself the responsi- 
bility of bringing the notorious Hans of Iceland, whose name 
I pray may not bring misfortune on me. I know that this 
young gentleman was even so bold as to go to Walderhog 
cave, to propose that he be our leader. He confided the ob- 
ject of his errand to me, at my brother Braal’s house, in Surb 
village. The rest of what the young gentleman says is also 
true. We were deceived by that cursed Hacket, and for that 
reason we do not deserve to be put to death.” 

“ Mr. Confidential Secretary,” said the president, “ the evi- 
dence is all in. What are your conclusions ? ” 

The secretary arose, bowed several times to the court, and 
kept his hand for some moments in the folds of his lace scarf, 
without taking his eyes even for an instant from those of the 
president. Finally he uttered these words, in a solemn, lugu- 
brious voice, — 

“ My lord president and honorable judges ! The charges 
are sustained. Ordener Guldenlew, who has tarnished forever 
the splendor of his glorious name, has succeeded in demon- 
strating his own guilt, without establishing the innocence of 
ex-chancellor Schumacker and his accomplices, — Hans of Ice- 
land, Wilfrid Kennybol, Jonas, and Norbith. I demand of 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


375 


this court, in the name of justice, that the six prisoners be 
declared guilty of the crime of high treason and leze-majesty 
in the first degree.” 

A confused murmur came from the crowd. The president 
was about to bring the sitting to an end, when the bishop 
requested a moment’s attention. 

“ Learned judges, it is right that the defence should be 
allowed the last word. I could wish that they had a better 
advocate, for I am old and feeble, and what little strength I 
have comes from God. I am surprised at the severity of the 
demands made by the confidential secretary. Nothing that 
has been said here proves the guilt of my client, Schumacker. 
It has not been shown that he had any direct connection 
whatever with the miners’ insurrection ; and since my other 
client, Ordener Guldenlew, declares that he made free with 
Schumacker’s name, and more than that, that he is the sole 
author of that abominable sedition, every presumption is en- 
tirely in favor of Schumacker. You ought, therefore, to 
acquit him. I recommend to your Christian forbearance these 
other prisoners, who have been led astray, like sheep from 
the shepherd — even young Ordener Guldenlew, who at least 
should have the credit for confessing his crime — a very 
meritorious action in the sight of heaven. Remember, honor- 
able judges, that he is yet at an age when a man is likely to 
make a false step and even succumb, and that God will not 
refuse to uphold him, or lift him to his feet. Ordener Gul- 
denlew carries barely a fourth of the burden of years that 
weigh so heavily upon my head. Put his youth and his in- 
experience in the scales of justice, and do not cut short so 
untimely the life that the Lord has but just given to him.” 

The old man ended his appeal, and took his place near Or- 
dener, who was smiling. Then, at the invitation of the presi- 
dent, the judges arose and withdrew silently to the apartment 
where they held their deliberations. While these men in that 
awe-inspiring sanctuary were deciding the destiny of the six 
prisoners, the latter sat motionless upon the bench, between 


376 


DANS OF ICELAND. 


two rows of halberdiers. Schumacher, with his head upon 
his breast, seemed to be given over to profound revery. The 
giant looked from right to left, with an expression of idiotic 
assurance. Jonas and Kennybol prayed in an undertone, with 
clasped hands, while their comrade, Norbith, stamped his foot 
at intervals, or shook his chains impetuously. Between him 
and the venerable bishop, who was reading the penitential 
psalms, Ordener sat with folded arms and uplifted eyes. Be- 
hind them the crowd had again broken into tumult at the 
withdrawal of the judges. Their thoughts and words and 
glances were wholly taken up with the famous Munckholm 
captive, the formidable Iceland demon, and especially the 
viceroy’s son. The noise of their unrestrained exclamations 
of pity, merriment, and wonder, rose and fell like a flame un- 
dulating in the wind. 

In this way several hours of inaction went by, — hours so 
long that it did not seem as if they could be contained in one 
night. From time to time glances were cast at the door lead- 
ing to the inner chamber ; but nothing could be seen but two 
soldiers, who paced back and forth with their gleaming parti- 
sans before the ominous threshold, like two speechless phan- 
toms. Finally the torches and the lamps began to pale, and 
the white rays of dawn were beginning to find their way 
through the narrow windows of the court-room, when the door 
of destiny opened. The tumult gave place at once, as if by 
magic, to all-pervading silence; and nothing could be heard 
save the hurried respiration and abstracted movements of a 
crowd under the influence of suspense. 

The judges emerged slowly from the inner chamber, with 
the president at their head, and resumed their places on the 
bench. The confidential secretary, who had seemed to be 
absorbed in his own reflections during their absence, bowed 
and said, — 

“ My lord president, what judgment has this court without 
appeal to render in the king’s name ? We are ready to re- 
ceive it with entire reverence.” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


377 


The judge sitting at the president’s right got up, holding 
a parchment in his hand, — 

“ His grace, our eminent president, fatigued by the extreme 
length of the sitting, has deigned to assign to us, chief syndic 
of Drontheimlius, and ordinarily the presiding officer of this 
honorable court, the duty of reading for him the judgment 
that has been rendered in the king’s name. We are about to 
perform this honorable and painful duty, reminding those who 
are present of the propriety of keeping silence, out of respect 
to the infallibility of royal justice.” 

Then the chief syndic’s voice became solemn and impres- 
sive, and all hearts beat rapidly. 

“ In the name of our venerated master and legitimate lord, 
Christiern, the king, this is the decree that we, the judges of 
the high court of Drontheimhus, render in accordance with 
the dictates of conscience in regard to the case of John Schu- 
macker, state prisoner ; Wilfrid Kennybol, a denizen of the 
Kole mountains; Jonas, royal miner; Norbith, royal miner; 
Hans of Klipstadur, in Iceland ; and Ordener Guldenlew, 
Baron of Thorvick and Knight of Dannebrog, — all accused of 
the crime of high treason and leze-majesty in the first degree, 
Hans of Iceland being further charged with murder, incendia- 
rism, and brigandage : — 

“ First, John Schumacker is not guilty. 

“ Second, Wilfrid Kennybol, Jonas, and Norbith are guilty; 
but the court grants them clemency because they were led 
astray. 

“ Third, Hans of Iceland is guilty of all the crimes of which 
he has been accused. 

“ Fourth, Ordener Guldenlew is guilty of high treason and 
leze-majesty in the first degree.” 

The judge paused for a moment, as if to take breath. Or- 
dener watched him with an expression of unrestrained and 
celestial joy. 

“ John Schumacker,” the judge went on, “ the court acquits 
you, and remands you to your prison. 


878 


BANS OF ICELAND. 


“ Kenny bol, Jonas, and Norbith, the court commutes the 
penalty which you have incurred to imprisonment for life, and 
a fine of one thousand royal crowns each. 

“Hans of Klipstadur, assassin and incendiary, you will 
to-night be taken to the parade-ground at Munckholm, and be 
hanged by the neck until you are dead. 

“ Ordener Guldenlew, traitor, after being deprived of your 
titles in the presence of this court, you will be conducted 
to-night to the same place, with a torch in your hand, there 
to have your head severed from your body, your body burned, 
your ashes cast to the winds, and your head exposed on a 
wattle. 

“ Let all withdraw. Such is the judgment rendered by the 
king’s justice.” 

Scarcely had the chief syndic finished his melancholy task 
when a loud cry rang through the apartment. It was a cry 
that terrified those who heard it even more than the horrible 
details of the death sentence ; it was a cry that even brought 
pallor for a moment to the serene and radiant brow of Ordener 
the condemned. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


379 


4 - 


CHAPTER XLIV. 

’Twas misfortune that made them equal. — Charles Nodier. 

The die was cast ; the event was about to be accomplished, 
or rather had already been accomplished. He had saved the 
father of her whom he loved, and he had saved her by giving 
her back to paternal watch-care. The young man’s noble con- 
spiracy in behalf of Schumacker’s life had succeeded ; the rest 
now was nothing ; he had only to die. 

Let those who believed him to be mad or guilty judge the 
generous Ordener now as he judged himself in his own soul, 
in a sort of holy rapture ; for his only thought had been, when 
he joined the rebel ranks, that if he could not prevent the 
consummation of Schumacker’s crime, he could at least fore- 
stall its punishment by taking it upon his own head. 

“ Alas ! ” he said to himself, “ Schumacker is undoubtedly 
guilty, but he has been embittered by captivity and misfortune, 
and his crime is pardonable. He seeks to obtain his liberty, 
and he strives for it, even through rebellion. Moreover, what 
would become of my Ethel if her father were taken from her, 
if she lost him by the scaffold, if renewed opprobrium were to 
blight her life ; what would become of her, without support 
and without succor, alone in her dungeon, or wandering in a 
world of enemies ? ” 

This thought had determined his sacrifice, and he made his 
preparations for it with joy ; for the greatest happiness that 
a lover can have is to sacrifice his life, not for the life, but 
for a smile or a tear from the being he loves. So he had 
been taken among the rebels, had been dragged before the 
judges who were to condemn Schumacker, had uttered his 


880 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


generous falsehood, and had been sentenced. He was to die 
a cruel death under ignominious torture, and leave behind 
him a sullied name ; but what did all this matter to the 
noble young man ? He had saved Ethel’s father. 

He is sitting now in chains in a dripping dungeon, where 
light and air scarcely penetrate through the gloomy loopholes. 
Near him is the food which is to sustain the remainder of his 
existence, — a bit of black bread and a pitcher full of water. 
An iron collar is about his neck, iron bracelets hold his wrists, 
and iron bands are about his ankles. Every hour as it flits 
by takes away more from his life than a year does from ordi- 
nary mortals. He is lost in ecstatic dreams. 

“ Perhaps the memory of my existence will not perish 
utterly with me, at least from one human heart; perhaps 
she will deign to drop a tear as my blood flows ; perhaps she 
will now and then give a regretful thought to him who devoted 
his life to her; perhaps, in maiden reveries, she will some- 
times be conscious of the vague image of her friend ! Who 
knows, after all, what is beyond death ? Who knows if souls 
delivered from their material prison may not sometimes be 
able to return and watch the souls that love them, hold mys- 
terious communion with those tender companions yet held 
captive, and bring to them in secret something of angelic 
virtue, something of heavenly joy ? 

An undercurrent of embittering thought mingled with these 
consoling meditations. The hatred that Schumacker had man- 
ifested toward him, even at the very moment of his sacrifice, 
weighed upon his heart. The agonizing cry that he had 
heard when his death sentence ’was delivered shook him 
deeply ; for he was the only one in that audience who recog- 
nized the voice, and understood the suffering it expressed. 
And was he never to see his Ethel again? Was he to pass 
his last moments in the very prison where she was in durance 
without being able once more to feel the touch of her soft 
hand, to hear once more the tender accents of her voice, 
before he went out to die ? 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


381 


He had abandoned himself to the influences of the vague 
and melancholy revery that is to the mind what sleep is to 
the body, when the harsh noise of old and rusty bolts struck 
rudely upon his ear, which had already, after a fashion, been 
attuned to the finer harmonies of the sphere whither he was 
about to take flight. The heavy iron door of his dungeon 
opened upon its creaking hinges. The young prisoner arose 
tranquilly and almost joyfully ; for he thought that the execu- 
tioner had come in search of him, and he had already cast life 
from him, like the cloak which he was trampling under his 
feet. 

His expectations were not realized. A slender figure clad 
in white appeared, like a luminous vision, on the dungeon 
threshold. Ordener could not believe his eyes, and asked him- 
self if he were already in heaven. ’Twas she — ’twas his 
Ethel. The young girl fell into his manacled arms, and rained 
tears upon his hands, wiping them away with the long black 
thick tresses of her hair. She kissed the iron bonds that 
held him, and wounded her tender lips against the cruel irons. 
She did not speak; but her whole heart seemed to be ready to 
come forth at the first word that should pass amid her sob- 
bing. 

Ordener experienced the most celestial bliss that he had 
ever known since his life began. He held his Ethel softly to 
his breast, and the united forces of earth and hell would not 
have been able at that moment to tear her from the two arms 
that were clasped about her. The anticipation of approach- 
ing death gave a certain solemnity to his rapture, and he held 
to his Ethel as if he had already taken possession of her for 
eternity. He did not ask this angelic visitor how she had 
been able to make her way to him ; she was there — could he 
think of anything else. Moreover, he felt no surprise. He 
did not ask himself how this young, proscribed, weak and un- 
aided girl had been able, in spite of triple doors of iron and 
triple ranks of guards, to escape from her own prison and gain 
access to her lover’s. It was all simple enough to him ; he car- 


382 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


ried within himself evidence to prove that love can do all 
things. 

What are mere words worth when one can speak with an- 
other, soul to soul ? Why may not the body listen in silence 
to the mysterious language of the heart ? Both were silent, 
because only by silence could they express the emotions that 
filled their minds. Finally, however, the young girl lifted her 
head from the young man’s agitated breast. 

“ Ordener,” she said, “ I have come to save you.” This 
cheering message she uttered with agonizing sorrow. Ordener 
shook his head and smiled. 

“ Save me, Ethel ! You deceive yourself ; flight is impos- 
sible.” 

“ Alas, I know that too well ! The castle is filled with 
soldiers, and every door leading to this place is guarded by 
archers and jailers who never sleep. But,” she added un- 
easily, “ I bring you another means of safety.” 

“ Ah, well, ’tis but a vain hope. Do not delude yourself 
with false anticipations, Ethel ; in a few hours a stroke of the 
axe will dissipate them all too cruelly.” 

“ Do not say that, Ordener ; you will not die ! Oh, take 
that horrible thought away from me, or rather, yes, bring it 
before me in all its horror, that I may have the strength to 
accomplish your salvation and my sacrifice.” 

There was an indefinable meaning in the young girl’s tones. 
Ordener looked at her tenderly. 

“ Your sacrifice ! What do you mean ?” 

She hid her face in her hands and sobbed, exclaiming in a 
stifled voice, “ 0 God ! ” 

The moment of weakness quickly passed. She stood erect, 
with shining eyes, and a smile on her lips. She was as beauti- 
ful as an angel taking flight from hell to heaven. 

“ Listen, dear Ordener ; the scaffold will never be built for 
you. To make your life secure, it is enough that you prom- 
ise to marry Ulrica Ahlefeld.” 

“ Ulrica Ahlefeld ! That name on your lips, dear Ethel ! ” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


383 


“ Do not interrupt me,” she went on, with the calmness of a 
martyr facing the last stroke of torture ; “ I come here at the 
request of the Countess of Ahlefeld. They promise to secure 
the king’s pardon for you, if in return your hand shall be 
pledged to the grand chancellor’s daughter. I have come here 
to ask you to take oath that you will marry Ulrica and live 
for her. They chose me as the messenger, because they 
thought my voice might have some influence.” 

“Ethel,” said the condemned man in cold and measured 
speech, “ farewell ; when you leave this dungeon, tell them to 
send the executioner.” 

She stood a moment before him pale and trembling, then 
her knees gave way, and she sank upon the stones, clasping 
her hands. 

“ What have I done to him ? ” she murmured distractedly. 
Ordener was silent, with eyes on the floor. “ My lord,” she 
said, dragging herself to his feet, “ you make no reply ! Are 
you not willing to speak to me ? Then, there is nothing left 
for me but to die.” 

“ Ethel, you do not love me,” said the young man, the tears 
falling from his eyes. 

“ 0 God,” the poor young girl exclaimed, clasping the pris- 
oner’s knees, “ I do not love you ! You say that I no longer 
love you, my Ordener. Is it really so that you can say 
that ? ” 

“ You no longer love me since you despise me.” 

He repented of the cruel speech even as he uttered it; for 
EthePs tone was agonizing, as she threw her adoring arms 
around his neck, exclaiming in a voice stifled with tears, — 

“ Forgive me, my beloved Ordener, forgive me, as I forgive 
you. I, despise you — great God, are you not my treasure, 
my pride, my idolatry ? Tell me, have my words ever ex- 
pressed anything but profound love, fervent admiration, for 
you? Alas, your harsh words have wounded me deeply; for 
I came here to save you, my adored Ordener, by sacrificing 
my whole life to yours ! ” 


384 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“Ah, yes,” the young man responded gently, kissing the 
tears from Ethel’s face; “ but did you not show little esteem 
for me by proposing that I should purchase the right to live 
by abandoning my Ethel, ignobly forgetting my vows, and 
sacrificing my love ? — my love,” he added, gazing earnestly 
at Ethel, “ for which to-day I pour out my blood.” 

“ Listen to me once more, dear Ordener,” Ethel responded, 
after a prolonged moan ; “ do not accuse me so hastily. Per- 
haps I have more fortitude than ordinarily belongs to feeble 
woman. From our donjon height we can look into the parade 
ground, and see them building the scaffold destined for you. 
Ordener, you do not realize the horrible agony of witnessing 
the preparations for the death of one whose life is bound up 
in yours ! The Countess of Ahlefeld, with whom I was when 
I heard your sentence delivered, sought me out in the donjon, 
to which I had returned with my father. She asked me if I 
wanted to save you, and offered this odious alternative. Dear 
Ordener, I was asked to renounce you, to lose you forever, to 
cut off my only hope of happiness, to give you to another, to 
sacrifice in another’s behalf the felicity that might have been 
mine, — to do this, or deliver you to judgment. I had my 
choice between my own unhappiness and your death ; I did not 
hesitate.” 

“Neither do I, Ethel,” he said, respectfully kissing her 
angelic hand. “ You would not have come to me to offer me 
life and the hand of Ulrica Ahlefeld if you knew how it came 
to pass that I am to die.” 

“ Why, what mystery ” — 1 

“ Let me have one secret from you, my beloved Ethel. I 
wish to die without letting you know whether my death is a 
matter for gratitude or hatred.” 

“ You wish to die ? you really wish to die ? O God, then 
it is true — the scaffold is rising at this moment, and no 
human power can deliver my Ordener from his fate ! Tell 
me, my beloved Ordener, cast one look at your slave and 
well-wisher, and promise me to listen without anger. Are you 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


385 


wholly sure, — answer your Ethel, as you would to Heaven, — 
are you wholly sure that you could not lead a life of happiness 
with this other woman, Ulrica Ahlefeld ? Are you wholly 
sure of it, Ordener ? She is perhaps — nay, undoubtedly she 
is — beautiful, gentle, virtuous ; she is far more worthy than 
the one for whom you perish. Don’t turn your head away, 
dear Ordener, dear friend. You are too noble and too young 
to mount a scaffold ! Ah, well, you will live with her in some 
brilliant city, where j^ou will think no more of this funereal 
donjon ; your days will glide peacefully along, and bring you 
no tidings of me. I consent ; and you shall drive my image 
from your heart and from your memory, Ordener ; only live, 
and leave me here alone ; it is for me to die, and, believe me, 
when I know you are in the arms of another, you will not 
need to be anxious about me ; I shall not suffer long.” 

She paused, her voice drowned in tears ; and yet one could 
read in her despairing glance, her agonizing desire to secure 
the object she had in view, even though it involved her own 
death. 

“ Ethel, talk no more to me of this,” Ordener said. “ Let 
no other names pass between us now but yours and mine.” 

“ And so,” she responded, “ alas, alas ! You prefer, then, 
to die ? ” 

“ It must be so. I go to the scaffold with joy, going for 
you; I should go with horror to the altar for any other 
woman. Talk no more of it ; you wound me and offend me.” 

“ He is going to die,” she kept whispering, amid her tears ; 
“ 0 God, he is going to die an infamous death ! ” 

“ Believe me, Ethel,” the condemned man responded with 
a smile, “ there is less dishonor in the death that awaits me 
than in such a life as you propose.” 

At that moment his glance turned from his weeping Ethel, 
and lighted upon an old man, wearing priestly garments, 
standing in the shadow under the low archway of the door. 

“ What do you want ? ” he asked quickly. 

“ My lord, I have come here as the envoy of the Countess 


886 


HANS OF ICELAND . 


of Ahlefeld. You did not perceive my approach, and I was 
waiting until your eye fell upon me.” 

In fact, Ordener had seen no one but Ethel ; and the latter, 
when she saw Ordener, had forgotten her companion. 

“ I am the minister charged with ” — said the old man. 

“ I understand,” said Ordener. “ I am ready.” 

“ God also is ready,” said the minister drawing nearer, “ to 
receive you, my son.” 

“ Eeverend sir,” Ordener responded, “ your face is not un- 
known to me. I have seen you somewhere before.” 

“ I also recognize you, my son,” said the minister, bending 
his head; “it was at Yygla tower. We both made manifest 
on that day how little certainty there is in human words. 
You promised me pardon for a dozen unfortunate convicts, 
and I did not believe in your promise, not being able to guess 
that you were what you are, the viceroy’s son ; and you, my 
lord, who counted upon your power and your rank, in giving 
me that assurance ” — 

Ordener completed the sentence that Athanasius Munder 
dared not finish. “ I cannot to-day obtain pardon for any one, 
not even for myself. You are right, reverend sir. I had too 
little respect for the future ; I have been punished, by dis- 
covering that there is a power superior to my own.” 

u God is all-powerful,” said the minister, bowing his head ; 
then he lifted his benevolent eyes to Ordener, and added, 
“ God is good.” 

Ordener seemed to be preoccupied for a few moments, and 
then exclaimed, — - 

“ Listen, reverend sir ; I wish to keep the promise that I 
made to you at Yygla tower. When I am d^ead, go to my 
father at Bergen, to the viceroy of Norway, and say to him 
that the last boon asked of him by his son is the pardon of 
your twelve convicts. He will grant the request, I feel very 
sure.” 

The face of the venerable Athanasius was wet with tears. 

“ My son,” he said, “ your heart must be filled with noble 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


387 


thoughts, to enable you courageously to reject pardon for 
yourself, and at the same time generously to solicit pardon 
for others ; for I heard your refusal, and although I could not 
but condemn a dangerous excess of human passion, I was pro- 
foundly touched by it. Now, I say to myself, Unde scelus? 
How does it happen that a man who has attained so nearly 
the standard of ideal justice should be stained with the crime 
for which he has been condemned ? ” 

“ My father, I have not told this angel, and I cannot tell 
you — only believe that the cause of my condemnation was 
not a crime.” 

“ What ? Explain yourself, my son.” 

“ Do not press me,” the young man responded firmly. 
“Let me carry the secret of my death to the tomb.” 

“It cannot be that this young man is guilty,” murmured 
the minister. 

Then he took a black crucifix from his breast, and placed it 
on a sort of altar, roughly fashioned from a slab of granite, 
leaning against the dripping prison wall. Near the crucifix 
he placed and lighted a little oil lamp, which he had brought 
with him, and also put there an open Bible. 

“ My son, pray and meditate. I will come back in a few 
hours.” Then turning to Ethel, who had maintained an ab- 
stracted silence during the interview between the two men, 
Athanasius added, “ Now we must leave the prisoner. Time 
passes rapidly.” 

She rose to her feet with an expression of radiant tranquil- 
lity ; there was something divine in the light that rested upon 
her countenance. 

“ Reverend sir,” she said, “ I cannot go with you yet. You 
must first unite Ethel Schumacker to her husband Ordener 
Guldenlew.” She looked at Ordener, and added, “If you 
were yet in a position of power and eminence, and had your 
freedom, Ordener, I should separate my fatal destiny from 
yours, and weep ; but now that you can no longer suffer any- 
thing from the contagion of my misfortune ; now that you are, 


388 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


like me, a captive, dishonored and oppressed ; now that you 
are about to die — I come to you, hoping that, at least, Or- 
dener, my lord, you will deign to permit one who may not be 
the companion of your life to be the companion of your death ; 
for you love me enough, do you not, never to have doubted, 
for a single instant, that when you die, I shall die too ? ” 
The condemned man fell at her feet, and kissed the hem of 
her gown. “ You, reverend sir, 57 she went on, “ you will take 
the place of parents and family ; this dungeon shall be the 
temple, and this stone the altar. Here is my ring ; we are on 
our knees before God and before you. Give us your blessing, 
and recite the holy formula that will unite Ethel Schumacker 
to Ordener Guldenlew her lord.” 

They were both kneeling together before the minister, who 
looked at them with surprise and pity. 

“ What is this, my children ? What are you doing ? ” 

“ Father,” said the young girl, “ time flies. God and death 
await us.” 

There are times in life when one encounters the irresistible 
influence of a will to which one succumbs without question, 
as if it were something more than human. The priest lifted 
up his eyes and sighed. 

“May Heaven pardon me if my consent is culpable ! You 
love one another, you have but a little time left to love one 
another upon earth ; I do not believe that I shall be false to 
my sacred duties by setting the seal of the church upon your 
devotion.” 

The touching and impressive ceremony was completed. 
They both arose at the priest’s final benediction, as husband 
and wife. The face of the condemned man shone with a 
melancholy joy. It seemed as if his realization of the bitter- 
ness of death had come upon him just as he was beginning to 
understand the felicity there might be in living. His com- 
panion’s expression was sublime in its grandeur and sim- 
plicity. Ethel manifested in her bearing the modesty of a 
maiden and the dignity of the young wife. 



“THE TOUCHING AND IMPRESSIVE CEREMONY WAS COMPLETED.” 















HANS OF ICELAND. 


889 


“ Listen to me, my Ordener,” she said ; “ is it not true that 
we are happy to die now, since we were not to be reunited in 
living ? Yon do not know what I am going to do, my friend. 
I shall stand at the donjon windows, where I can see you 
mount the scaffold, and our two souls will fly away together 
into heaven. If I expire before the axe has fallen, I shall 
wait for you ; for we are husband and wife, my beloved Or- 
dener, and this night the sepulchre shall be our nuptial bed.” 

He pressed her to his swollen heart, and all he could say 
was to give utterance to the idea that filled his whole being, — 

“ Ethel, you are really mine ! ” 

“ My children,” said the chaplain tenderly, “ say farewell. 
It is time.” 

“ Alas ! ” exclaimed Ethel. Then the strength of her 
angelic purpose came back to her, and she fell at the con- 
demned man’s feet. “ Farewell, Ordener, farewell, beloved ; 
give me your blessing, my lord.” 

The prisoner acceded to this, then he turned to salute the 
venerable Athanasius Munder. The old man was also kneel- 
ing before him. 

“ What do you wish of me, my father ? ” he asked in sur- 
prise. 

“ Your benediction, my son,” said the old man, looking at 
him in perfect humility. 

“ May Heaven bless you, and shower upon you all the happi- 
ness that your prayers seek to call down upon your fellow- 
creatures,” Ordener responded solemnly and with emotion. 

The last adieus and the last kisses passed between the 
lovers under the sepulchral archway, the ruthless bolts were 
thrust noisily into place, and the iron door separated the 
youthful husband and wife, who awaited death as the means 
that should enable them to keep their tryst in eternity. 


390 


SANS OF ICELAND. 


CHAPTER XLY. 


To him who will deliver Luis Perez to me, alive or dead, I will give a thou- 
sand crowns. — Calderon : Luis Perez of Galicia. 

“ Baron Vcethaun, colonel of Munckholm arquebusiers, 
who was it among the soldiers fighting under your orders at 
Black Column pass, who made Hans of Iceland prisoner ? 
Name him to the court, that he may receive the thousand 
royal crowns promised for that achievement.” 

Thus spoke the president of the tribunal to the colonel of 
arquebusiers. The court was still in session ; for in accordance 
with the ancient Norwegian custom, judges who gave sen- 
tence without appeal must remain upon the bench until the 
sentence had been carried into execution. Before them stood 
the giant, who had been brought thither with the rope around 
his neck, which in a few hours was to be his only visible means 
of support. 

The colonel, who had been sitting near the secretary’s table, 
now got up. He saluted the court and the bishop, who had 
resumed his place under the canopy. “ Honorable judges, the 
soldier who took Hans of Iceland is in your presence. His 
name is Toric Belfast, and he is second arquebusier in my 
regiment.” 

u Let him come forward, then, and receive the promised 
reward,” said the president. 

A young soldier, in the uniform of the Munckholm arque- 
busiers, presented himself. 

“ You are Toric Belfast ? ” the president inquired. 

“ Yes, your grace.” 

“ It was you who took Hans of Iceland prisoner ? ” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


891 


u Yes, with the aid of St. Beelzebub, if it pleases your ex- 
cellency.” 

A heavy bag was brought to the president, who pointed to 
the shackled giant, and asked, — 

“ You recognize this man for the notorious Hans of Ice- 
land, do you ? ” 

"I know pretty Cattie’s face better than I do Hans of 
Iceland’s ; but I am ready to swear, by the glory of St. Bel- 
phegor, that if Hans of Iceland exists at all, ’tis in the form 
of that great demon.” 

“ Come hither, Toric Belfast,” the president said. “ Here 
are the thousand crowns that the chief syndic promised.” 

The soldier was hurrying forward, in response to the pres- 
ident’s command, when some one in the crowd called out, — 

“ Munckholm arquebusier, you are not the one who took 
Hans of Iceland ! ” 

“ By all the jovial devils,” the soldier exclaimed, turning 
around, “all the property that I have is my pipe and this 
present moment ; but I promise to give ten thousand gold 
crowns to the man who said that, if he can prove what he 
says ! ” Folding his arms, he cast a defiant glance at the 
spectators. “ Well, let the one who spoke show himself.” 

“ ’Twas I,” said a little man, thrusting the crowd aside to 
make his way into the enclosure. 

This person was wrapped up in a Greenland costume of 
rush matting and sealskin, which fell around him like the 
conical roof of a hut. He wore a black beard ; and thick hair 
of the same color, falling over his reddish eyebrows, partly 
hid his face, but what could be seen of it was hideous. His 
arms and his hands were not visible. 

“ Ah, ’twas you ! ” said the soldier, with a shout of laugh- 
ter ; “ and who was it, then, my fine fellow, who in your opin- 
ion had the honor of capturing that diabolical giant ? ” 

The little man shook his head, and said, with a wicked 
leer, — 

“ I’m the one ! ” 


392 


BANS OF ICELAND. 


At that moment Baron Vœtliaün believed that he recognized 
in this extraordinary man the mysterious being who at Skon- 
gen had given him information concerning the arrival of the 
rebels ; Chancellor Ahlefeld thought he saw before him the 
occupant of Arbar ruins ; and the confidential secretary fan- 
cied that they had to do with a certain Oëlmœ peasant, who 
wore a similar matting, and who had told him where to find 
Hans of Iceland’s retreat. But as they were separated from 
one another, they could not make any mutual comparison of 
impressions which, when brought to the test of changes in 
costume and features, would speedily have been effaced. 

“ So you’re the one ! ” the soldier responded ironically. 
“ If it were not for your Greenland seal outfit, I should be 
tempted to recognize, from the look you give me, the droll 
dwarf who tried to get up a quarrel with me in much the 
same way at the Spladgest, about a fortnight ago — ’twas the 
day when they brought in the body of Gill Stadt, the miner.” 

“ Gill Stadt! ” the little man interrupted with a shudder. 

“Yes, Gill Stadt,” the soldier repeated indifferently; “the 
discarded lover of a girl who was the mistress of one of our 
comrades, and for whom he killed himself, like a fool.” 

“ Wasn’t the body of an officer of your regiment also at the 
Spladgest ? ” asked the little man, in a dull, hollow voice. 

“Exactly; I shall remember that day as long as I live. I 
stayed in the Spladgest so long that I missed tattoo, and I 
came near getting my discharge when I went back to the fort. 
The officer was Captain Dispolsen.” 

“ These two fellows are abusing the patience of the court,” 
said the confidential secretary. “ We beseech the lord pres- 
ident to cut short this useless discussion.” 

“ By my Cattie’s honor, I ask nothing better,” said Toric 
Belfast, “ provided that your excellency award to me the 
thousand crowns promised for Hans’s head ; for I’m the one 
that took him prisoner.” 

“ You lie ! ” the little man shouted. 

“It’s lucky for you, you rogue,” said the soldier, putting 


BANS OF ICELAND . 


393 


his hand to his sword, “ that we are in the presence of the 
court, where even a Munckholm arquebusier must be as de- 
void of spurs as a worn-out fighting-cock.” 

“ The reward belongs to me,” said the little man coolly ; “ for 
without me Hans of Iceland would not have been taken.” 

The angry soldier swore that ’twas he who had taken Hans 
of Iceland, just as the brigand was beginning to open his eyes, 
where he had fallen, in the thick of the fight. 

“ Well,” said his adversary, “ it may be that yoü took him, 
but I knocked him down. If it hadn’t been for me, you 
would not have made him prisoner, so the thousand crowns 
are mine.” 

“’Tis false,” the soldier responded; “ ’twas not you who 
brought him down ; ’twas a demon in beasts’ skins.” 

« I did it ! ” 

“No, no ! ” 

The president commanded both to be silent, and then once 
more asked of Colonel Vœthaün if Toric Belfast had brought 
Hans of Iceland to him as a prisoner. Upon an affirmative 
response, he declared that the reward belonged to the soldier. 
The little man ground his teeth, and the arquebusier stretched 
out his hand eagerly to receive the bag. 

“One moment!” the little man exclaimed. “My lord 
president, this sum, according to the chief syndic’s edict, be- 
longs only to him who delivers up Hans of Iceland.” 

“ Well ? ” said the judges. 

“That man is not Hans of Iceland,” said the little man, 
turning toward the giant. 

A murmur of astonishment ran through the assembly. The 
president and the confidential secretary moved uneasily in 
their seats. 

“ No,” the little man went on earnestly, “ the money does 
not belong to the accursed Munckholm arquebusier, for this 
man is not Hans of Iceland.” 

“Halberdiers,” said the president, “take this noisy fellow 
away ; he has lost his reason.” 


394 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ Permit me, honorable president,” said the bishop in a 
loud, clear voice, “ to call attention to the fact that, in refus- 
ing to listen to this man, the last hope of salvation may be 
taken away from under the feet of the «condemned man here 
present. I demand, on the contrary, that the inquiry be con- 
tinued. 

“Reverend bishop, the court will give you satisfaction/’ 
the president responded ; and addressing himself to the giant 
he said, “ You have claimed to be Hans of Iceland ; do you 
confirm that claim in the presence of death ? ” 

“ I confirm it ; I am Hans of Iceland,” the condemned man 
responded. 

“ You hear, my lord bishop ? ” 

“ You lie, Kole mountaineer ; you lie ! ” the little man ex- 
claimed, before the president had finished speaking. “ Do not 
persist in carrying a name that will crush you; remember 
that it has already been a curse to you.” 

“ I am Hans of Klipstadur, in Iceland,” the giant repeated, 
with his eyes fixed upon the confidential secretary. 

The little man drew near the Munckholm soldier, who, like 
every one else, was watching the scene with eager curiosity. 

“ Kole mountaineer, they say that Hans of Iceland drinks 
human blood. If you are he, drink away; here’s some for 
you ! ” 

The words had scarcely crossed his lips, before he had 
thrown back his rush cloak, plunged a dagger into the arque- 
busier’s heart, and thrown the body at the giant’s feet. 

A shout of horror and alarm went up, and the soldiers 
guarding the giant fell back. With the rapidity of a thunder- 
bolt, the little man leaped upon the unprotected mountaineer, 
and with another dagger-thrust felled him across the soldier’s 
body. Then, snatching off the rush matting and his black 
wig and beard, he revealed a sinewy body, clad in beasts’ 
skins, and a face which excited even more horror among the 
beholders than the bloody dagger, which he held aloft, stained 
with the double murder. 


BANS OF ICELAND. 


895 


“ Ho, judges ! Where is Hans of Iceland ? ” 

“ Guards, seize this monster ! ” exclaimed the terrified pres- 
ident. 

Hans threw his dagger into the middle of the enclosure, 
and said, “ ’Tis useless to me now, since there are no more 
Munckholm soldiers here.” 

With these words, he surrendered without resistance to the 
halberdiers and archers, who had surrounded him with prepa- 
rations as elaborate as if they were going to besiege a town. 
They chained the monster to the prisoners’ bench; and his 
two victims were carried away on a litter, the mountaineer 
still breathing. 

It is impossible to depict the different manifestations of 
terror, astonishment, and wrath which in the course of this 
horrible scene had agitated the people, the guards, and the 
judges. When the brigand had taken his place, with perfect 
calmness, on the prisoners’ bench, every other emotion gave 
place to curiosity so profound that perfect silence followed. 

“ Honorable judges,” said the bishop, rising to his feet. 

“ Bishop of Drontheim,” the brigand interrupted, “ I am 
Hans of Iceland ; do not take the trouble to defend me.” 

“Noble president,” said the confidential secretary as he 
arose. 

“ Secretary, I am Hans of Iceland,” said the monster, cut- 
ting short what the other was about to say. “ Do not waste 
your time with any accusations against me.” 

Then, with his feet in blood, he cast a bold and fiery glance 
at the court, the archers, and the spectators; and all upon 
whom he looked seemed to shudder with terror tinder the 
scrutiny of that isolated, disarmed, and fettered man. 

“Listen, judges, and expect no long orations from me. I 
am the Klipstadur demon. My mother was the volcanic isle 
of old Iceland. Once she was a mountain ; but she was crushed 
under a giant, who fell upon her crest from the skies. There 
is no need that I should speak to you of myself ; I am de- 
scended from Ingolphus, the Exterminator, and I have his 


896 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


spirit within me. I have committed more murders and lighted 
more fires than you have pronounced iniquitous judgments in 
all your lives. I have secrets in common with Chancellor 
Ahlefeld. It would give me unspeakable delight to drink all 
the blood that runs in your veins. My nature is to hate men, 
and my mission to destroy them. Colonel of Munckholm ar- 
quebusiers, I am the one who told you that the miners were 
going through Black Column pass, feeling sure that you would 
kill a great many men in those ravines. I’m the one that 
crushed one of your battalions with rocks ; I was avenging 
my son. Now, judges, my son is dead, and I come here to 
seek death. The soul of Ingolphus weighs heavily upon me, 
because I carry it alone, and cannot transmit it to any heir. 
I am tired of life, since it can no longer be an example and 
a lesson for my successor. I have drunk blood enough ; my 
thirst is all gone. Here I am ; you can now drink mine.” 

He was silent, and many voices repeated after him his 
frightful words in undertones. 

“ My son,” said the bishop, “ what was your object in com- 
mitting so many crimes ? ” 

“ By my faith,” said the brigand with a laugh, “ I swear to 
you, reverend sir, that I wasn’t trying to enrich myself after 
the fashion of your colleague, the bishop of Borglum. 1 There 
was something in me that pushed me on.” 

“ God is not always present with those who purport to be 
his ministers,” the venerable saint humbly responded. “ You 
seek to insult me, but I wish to defend you.” 

“ Your reverence is wasting time. Go and ask your other 
colleague, the bishop of Scalholt in Iceland. By Ingolphus, 
’tis a strange thing that two bishops should have the care of 
my destiny, one at the cradle, and the other at the tomb. 
Bishop, you are an old crazy-head.” 

“ My son, do you believe in God ? ” 

1 Some chroniclers affirm that in 1525 a hishop of Borglum made himself 
notorious hy acts of brigandage. They declare that the pirates who infested 
the Norway coast were in his pay. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


397 


“ Why not ? I prefer to believe in God, so that I may be 
able to blasphemed 

“ Pause, unhappy wretch ; you are about to die, and you do 
not kiss the feet of the Christ ! ” 

“ If I did,” said Hans of Iceland with a shrug, “ it would 
be after the fashion of the Roll gendarme, who upset the king 
when kissing his foot.” The bishop sat down, overcome with 
emotion. “Well, judges,” Hans of Iceland went on, “what 
are you waiting for ? If I had been in your place, and you in 
mine, I would not have kept you waiting so long for your 
death sentence.” 

The court withdrew. After brief deliberation they returned ; 
and the president read in a loud voice the sentence which, in 
the customary formula, condemned Hans of Iceland to be 
hanged by the neck until he should be dead. 

“ That’s first-rate,” said the brigand. “ Chancellor Ahlefeld, 
I know enough about your doings to have the same fate dealt 
out to you ; but go on living, since you bring evil upon men. 
There’s one good thing, I’m sure now of not going to Nysthiem.” 1 

The confidential secretary ordered the guards who were to 
take him away to put him in the Lion of Schleswig donjon, 
while a dungeon was made ready for him in the quarters of 
the Munckholm arquebusiers pending his execution. 

“ In the quarters of the Munckholm arquebusiers ! ” the 
monster repeated, with a roar of joy. 

1 According to popular belief, Nysthiem was the hell reserved for those 
who died of disease or old age. 


398 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


CHAPTER XL VI. 

Meanwhile, Ponce de Leon’s body, which had been lying near the fountain, 
was being disfigured by the sun, and the Moors of Alpuxares took charge 
of it, and carried it away to Grenada. — E. H. : The Captive of Ochali. 

In the meantime, before the dawning of the clay which had 
been largely taken up with the events already described, at 
the very hour when Ordener’s sentence was being pronounced 
at Munckholm, the new Spladgest keeper at Drontheim, Ogly- 
piglap, — former assistant and now the successor of Benignus 
Spiagudry, — had been rudely awakened by a thunderous knock 
upon the outer door. He got up reluctantly, took his copper 
lamp, and with the dim light blinding his heavy eyes, made 
his way, with many oaths at the dampness of the mortuary 
chamber, to find out who it was that had so roughly disturbed 
his slumbers. 

Several fishermen from Sparbo lake had brought a litter, 
and on it a dead body, lying amid rushes and algæ, and taken 
by them from the waters of the lake. They deposited their 
burden inside the charnel-house ; and Oglypiglap gave them a 
receipt for the corpse, so that they might claim the reward. 
Left alone in the Spladgest, he began to undress the body, 
which was remarkable for its length and thinness. The first 
thing that met his eyes when he lifted the cloth that was 
wrapped around it was an enormous wig. 

“ Why, surely,” he said to himself, “this peculiar-looking 
wig has been through my hands before ; it belonged to that 
young French gallant. But,” he went on, as he continued his 
task, “ here are the top-boots that were worn by the poor pos- 
tilion Cranmer, who was crushed by his horses ; and — what 
the devil does this mean ? — the full suit of black worn by 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


399 


Professor Syngramtax, the old scholar, who drowned himself 
not long ago. Who can this newcomer be, dressed in the 
leavings of all my old acquaintances ? ” 

He held the lamp to the dead man’s face, but without avail ; 
the features were badly decomposed, and had lost their form 
and color. He fumbled in the coat pockets, and drew out sev- 
eral old parchments soaked with water and stained with mud. 
He rubbed them energetically with his leather apron, and suc- 
ceeded in making out on one of them the following disconnected 
and half-obliterated phrases : — 

“ * * * Rudbeck. Saxon, the grammarian. Arngrim, bishop of 
Holum. * * * There are only two counties in Norway, Larvig and 
Jarlsberg, and one barony. * * * There are no silver mines at Kongs- 
berg ; loadstone and asbestos at Sundmoër ; amethyst at Guldbranslial ; 
chalcedony, agate, jasper in the Faroe islands. * * * At Noukahiva, in 
times of famine, the men eat their wives and children. * * * Thormo- 
dus Thorfœus ; Isleif, bishop of Scalholt, first Icelandic historian. * * * 
Mercury played chess with Luna, and won the seventy-second part of 
a day. * * * Maelstrom, a gulf. * * * Hirundo , hirudo. * * * Cicero 
means niggard ; glory. * * * Froda the scholar. * * * Odin consulted 
the head of Mimer, the sage. * * * (Mahomet and his pigeon, Serto- 
rius and his she-dog). * * * The more sun * * * less gypsum to be 
found ” — 

“ I cannot believe my eyes ! ” Oglypiglap exclaimed, letting 
the parchment fall ; “ ’tis the writing of my old master, Benig- 
nus Spiagudry ! ” 

Then he examined the corpse anew, and recognized the long 
hands, the thin hair, and the general appearance of the poor 
fellow’s body. 

“ They were not wrong,” he said to himself with a shake 
of the head, “ in bringing charges of sacrilege and necromancy 
against him. The devil carried him off, and drowned him in 
Sparbo. Well, who can say what’s going to happen ? Who 
would ever have thought that Hr. Spiagudry, after so long 
holding the position of host in this dead man’s tavern, should 
at last come here on a long journey to be a guest himself ? ” 

The philosophical little Laplander was lifting the body to 


400 


If AN S OF ICELAND. 


put it on one of the six stone slabs, when he saw something 
hanging down heavily from a leather band fastened about the 
hapless Spiagudry’s neck. 

“ That’s probably the stone the demon fastened to him when 
he threw him in the lake/’ Oglypiglap muttered. 

He was mistaken; it was a small iron casket; and after 
wiping it carefully, and looking at it closely, he perceived a 
large clasp shaped like a shield. 

“ There’s some deviltry in this box, I’ve no doubt,” he said 
to himself. “ This man was guilty of sacrilege and sorcery. 
I’ll take the box to the bishop; perhaps there’s a demon 
inside.” 

He put the corpse on the slab, unfastened the box, and has- 
tened with it to the bishop’s palace, whispering prayers to 
himself all the way, that no harm might come to him from so 
ill-omened a burden. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


401 


k 


CHAPTER XLYII. 

"What fierce spirit is it tears thee thus? 

Show me the horrid tenant of thy heart. 

Maturin. 

Hans of Iceland and Schumacker are in the same room 
in the Schleswig donjon. The acquitted ex-chancellor walks 
slowly back and forth, his eyes filled with bitter tears. The 
condemned brigand, surrounded by guards, laughs at his 
chains. The two prisoners look at one another silently for 
a long time. There seems to be a feeling of sympathy be- 
tween them in their mutual recognition of the fact that each 
is at enmity with mankind. 

“ Who are you ? ” the ex-chancellor finally asks the brigand. 

“ I will tell you my name,” the other responds, “ to drive 
you away. I am Hans of Iceland. ” 

“ Take my hand ! ” Schumacker says, drawing near to him. 

“ Do you want me to eat it ? ” 

“ Hans of Iceland,’’ Schumacker replies, “ I love you, be- 
cause you hate men.” 

“ That’s why I hate you.” 

“ Listen ; I hate men, like you, because I have done good 
to them, and they have rendered evil for good.” 

“ You don’t hate them as I do ; I hate them because they 
have done good to me, and I have repaid them with evil.” 

Schumacker shuddered at the monster’s expression. His 
attempts to repress his natural feelings were in vain ; his soul 
had no sympathy with such a sentiment as that. 

“ Yes,” he exclaimed, “ I execrate men, because they are 
cheats, ingrates, cruel. To them I owe all the misfortunes of 
my life.” 


402 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“I have fared better; I owe them all the happiness that 
has come to me.” 

“ What happiness ? ” 

“The happiness of feeling living flesh quiver under my 
teeth, and smoking blood warming my parched throat; the 
delight of smashing live creatures against pointed rocks, and 
hearing the victims’ cries mingled with the noise of breaking 
bones. That’s the pleasure men have made for me.” 

Schumacker recoiled with dismay from the monster whom 
he had approached with something like pride in their mutual 
resemblance. Overcome with shame, he hid his venerable 
face in his hands ; for the tears of indignation that now filled 
his eyes were not inspired by his hatred of the human race, 
but by his hatred of himself. His great and noble heart was 
horrified when he saw the sentiment that he had so long 
nourished toward mankind now reflected in Hans of Iceland’s 
heart, as in a frightful mirror. 

“ Well,” said the monster with a laugh, “ enemy to men, 
do you dare vaunt yourself as being one like me ? ” 

“ 0 God,” the old man exclaimed with a shudder, “ rather 
than hate as you do, I would prefer to love ! ” 

The guards came to put the monster in more secure quar- 
ters. Schumacker remained alone in the donjon in medita- 
tion, but he was no longer at enmity with men. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


403 


CHAPTER XLYIII. 


. . . When the wicked man spies me, 

Wilt thou let me fall, oh, Lord, into his hands? 

’Twas he who made thy paths rough beneath my feet. 

Punish me not, I pray, for my crime is his crime. 

A. de Vigny. 

The fatal hour had come ; the sun was just sinking below 
the horizon. The guards had been doubled everywhere in 
Munckholm fortress ; silent and grim-looking sentinels paced 
to and fro in front of every door. The clamor of the city 
was intensified as it reached those sombre towers where 
extraordinary agitation prevailed. From every courtyard 
came the mournful sound of muffled drums ; the cannon on 
the ramparts thundered at intervals ; the massive bell on the 
donjon swung slowly, with prolonged, funereal reverberation ; 
and from every landing-place in the harbor, boats loaded 
with people were hurrying toward the terror-inspiring castle 
rock. 

A scaffold draped in black, surrounded by an impatient 
and restless throng, stood on the parade-ground, protected by 
a square of soldiers. On the scaffold, a man dressed in red 
serge walked back and forth, sometimes leaning on an axe 
which he held in his hand, and then arranging a block and 
hurdle, which had been placed on the platform. Hear by a 
funeral pile had been prepared, with torches in front of it 
already lighted. Between the scaffold and the funeral pile a 
staff was planted in the ground with this inscription fastened 
to it : “ Ordener Guldenlew, traitor.” From the parade- 
ground, a great black flag could be seen flying from the top 
of the Schleswig donjon. 


404 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


Meanwhile, Ordener had been taken before the tribunal, 
which was still in session in the court-room. The bishop 
alone was absent ; his efforts in behalf of the defence were no 
longer needed. The viceroy’s son was dressed in black, and 
he wore the Dannebrog collar about his neck. His counte- 
nance was pale, but haughty. He was alone ; for he had been 
brought forth from his dungeon before the chaplain, Athana- 
sius Munder, had returned. 

Ordener had already in spirit gone through the sacrifice; 
and yet, as Ethel’s husband, he felt some bitterness of regret, 
and perhaps would have chosen for his wedding-night some 
other occasion than that of his descent into the tomb. He 
had prayed and meditated in his cell, and now he had come 
to the end of prayers and meditation. He felt within him 
the strength given by God and by love. 

The crowd, manifesting more emotion than the condemned 
man, watched him with eager attention. The splendor of his 
rank and the horror of his destiny awakened envy and pity. 
Of those who were there to witness his punishment, not one 
could understand the motive for his crime. There is a 
strange instinct in men which impels them to attend scenes 
of torture as well as those of pleasure. They seek with hor- 
rible eagerness to understand the thoughts which the pros- 
pect of sudden death inspires, as if they believed some 
revelation from heaven or hell would be manifested at this 
solemn moment in the eyes of the miserable victim ; as if 
they could see the shadow of the death angel’s wings cast 
upon his head ; and as if they would know what remains to 
man after hope is gone. 

This being, full of strength and health, who is about to 
die ; who breathes and lives, and who in a moment will cease 
to move and breathe and live ; surrounded by creatures like 
himself, whom he has never harmed, who pity him, and yet 
cannot give him succor ; this unhappy wretch, dying, yet not 
moribund, crushed by a power both material and invisible; 
this life, which the state did not give, but which it ostenta- 


BANS OF ICELAND. 


405 


tiously takes away, — all this imposing ceremony of judicial 
murder has a tremendous effect on the imagination. We are 
all condemned to death, under an indefinite reprieve ; and the 
unfortunate one who knows precisely the hour when his res- 
pite is to end is to us an object of strange and melancholy 
curiosity. 

It will be remembered that before mounting the scaffold, 
Ordener was to be taken before the court, to be deprived of 
his titles and his honors. The disturbance caused among the 
spectators by his arrival had scarcely given place to silence, 
when the president called for the book of heraldry of the two 
kingdoms, and the statutes of the Order of Dannebrog. Then, 
commanding the condemned man to kneel on the ground, he 
urged the spectators to observe order, and opened the book of 
the knights of Dannebrog, and began to read in a loud and 
solemn voice, — 

“ ‘ Christiern, by the grace and the mercy of the Almighty, 
King of Denmark and Norway, of the Vandals and the Goths, 
Duke of Schleswig, Holstein, Stormaria, and Dytmaarse, Count 
of Oldenburg and Delmenhurst, hereby makes known that, 
having re-established at the suggestion of our grand chancel- 
lor the Count of Griffenfeld/ ” — the president hurried so 
rapidly over this name that it could scarcely be heard, — 
“ ‘ the royal Order of Dannebrog, founded by our illustrious 
ancestor, St. Waldemar, 

“ ‘ And since this venerable Order has been created in mem- 
ory of the standard of Dannebrog, sent by Heaven to our 
blessed kingdom, 

“ ‘ It would be contrary to the divine institution of that 
Order, if any knight should with impunity be false to the 
dictates of honor, or the sacred laws of Church and State; 

« 'We, therefore, decree, bowing before God, that whoever 
among the knights of this Order shall have given his soul to 
evil, by any felony or treason, shall be publicly reprimanded 
in court, and degraded forever from the rank of knight in our 
royal Order of Dannebrog/ 


406 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“Ordener Guldenlew, Baron of Thorvick and Knight of 
Dannebrog,” said the president, closing the book, “ yon have 
been found guilty of high treason, a crime for which your 
head is to be severed from your body, your body is to be 
burned, and your ashes are to be thrown to the winds. Or- 
dener Guldenlew, traitor, you have made yourself unworthy 
to hold rank among the knights of Dannebrog. Bow your 
head, for I am about to proclaim your degradation publicly, 
in the name of the king.” 

The president placed his hand on the statute book, and was 
about to utter the dreaded formula, while Ordener remained 
calm and motionless, when a side door opened at the right of 
the court-room. An ecclesiastical usher appeared, announcing 
his reverence, the Bishop of Drontheimhus, who immediately 
followed. The bishop came hurriedly into the hall, leaning 
upon the arm of another ecclesiastic. 

“ Wait, my lord president,” he exclaimed, with an energy 
in striking contrast with his bodily weakness ; “ wait ! Thank 
Heaven, I have arrived in time ! ” 

The spectators gave eager attention, foreseeing some un- 
usual event. The president turned toward the bishop in an 
irritated way, — 

“ His reverence will permit me to call his attention to the 
fact that his presence is useless here. The court is about to 
pronounce degradation upon the prisoner, who is close upon 
the moment of his final punishment.” 

“ Do not condemn a man who is innocent in the sight of 
God,” said the bishop. “ The prisoner has done no wrong.” 

The exclamation of astonishment that went up from the 
assembled crowd did not drown the outcry of fear uttered by 
the president and the confidential secretary. 

“Yes, tremble, judges,” the bishop went on, before the 
president had time to recover his presence of mind, “ tremble, 
for you were about to shed innocent blood.” 

While the president was recovering his composure, Ordener 
arose in consternation. The noble young man feared that his 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


407 


generous ruse had been discovered, and that they had found 
proofs of Schumacker’s guilt. 

“ My lord bishop,” said the president, “ in this affair the 
responsibility for the crime seems to elude us by being trans- 
ferred from one person to another. Do not be deceived by 
vain appearances. If Ordener Guldenlew is innocent, pray 
tell us who is the guilty one ? ” 

“ Your grace shall hear,” the bishop responded, as he held 
up before the court an iron casket, which an attendant had 
been carrying. “ My noble lords, you have been groping in 
darkness ; this casket holds the miraculous light which is to 
dissipate your ignorance.” 

The president, the confidential secretary, and Ordener were 
greatly impressed at the aspect of the mysterious box. The 
bishop went on, — 

“ Noble judges, listen. To-day, as we were about to enter 
the episcopal palace, to obtain some repose from the fatigues 
of the night, and to pray for the condemned, this sealed iron 
box was given into our possession. We were told that the 
Spladgest keeper had brought it to our palace this morning, 
with the request that it be placed in our hands, and the warn- 
ing that it probably contained some satanic mystery, since it 
had been found on the body of Benignus Spiagudry, the sac- 
rilegist, who had been found drowned in Sparbo.” 

Ordener gave even closer attention, and all present kept 
strict silence. The president and the secretary bowed their 
heads, as if they were about to undergo sentence. Both 
seemed to have lost entirely their natural astuteness and 
audacity. There is always a time in a wicked man’s life 
when his powers desert him. 

“ After having blessed this casket,” continued the bishop, 
“ we broke the seal, which bore, as you can still see, the 
former and abrogated arms of Griffenfeld. We found, in 
truth, a satanic secret inside. You shall judge of it, my ven- 
erable lords. Give us your whole attention, for it is a question 
that involves human blood, and Heaven will weigh every drop.” 


408 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


Then opening the ominous casket, he took out a parch- 
ment, on the back of which was inscribed the following at- 
testation : 

“ I, Blaxtham Cumbysulsum, doctor, being at the point of death, 
place in the hands of Captain Dispolsen, the agent at Copenhagen of 
the former Count of Griffenfeld, the enclosed document, which I de- 
clare to be written wholly in the handwriting of Turiaf Musdoemon, 
servitor to the chancellor, the Count of Ahlefeld, that the aforesaid 
captain may make such use of it as he may see fit ; and I pray God to 
pardon all my sins. At Copenhagen, the eleventh day of the month of 
January, sixteen hundred and ninety-nine. 

Cumbysulsum.” 

The confidential secretary was seized with a convulsive 
trembling. He tried to speak. Meanwhile, the bishop 
handed the parchment to the pale and agitated president. 

“ What is this ? ” exclaimed the latter, unfolding the docu- 
ment. 11 1 Memorandum for the noble, the Count of Ahlefeld, 
with regard to measures for ridding himself of Schumacker, 
by judicial process ’ ! Reverend bishop, I swear to you” — 
and the parchment fell from the president’s hands. 

“ Read, read, my lord,” the bishop commanded. “ I do not 
doubt that your unworthy servitor has taken advantage of 
your authority, as he has of that of the unfortunate Schu- 
macker. Behold, however, the results of your relentless 
hatred for your fallen predecessor. One of your retainers has 
sought to ruin him, in your name, hoping thereby to win 
favor with your grace.” 

The president became calm when he realized that, in spite 
of full knowledge of the contents of the casket, the bishop’s 
suspicions had not lighted upon him. Ordener also experi- 
enced great relief. He began to see that the innocence of 
Ethel’s father was about to be demonstrated, along with his 
own. He felt profound astonishment at the extraordinary 
decree of destiny, which had led him to go in pursuit of a 
formidable brigand to recover a casket, which his old guide 
Benignus Spiagudry bore upon his person, so that he was 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


409 


really following the object of which he was in search. He 
reflected also upon the momentous lesson that the progress of 
events set forth, in making the marvellous casket, first a 
source of peril, and then a talisman for his salvation. 

Recovering his composure, the president, with indications 
of anger in which his audience participated, read a long note, 
in which Musdœmon explained in detail the abominable plot 
that we have seen him working out in the course of this 
narrative. Several times the confidential secretary made as 
if he would get up and defend himself, but each time the 
manifestations of public wrath thrust him back into his seat. 
Finally the reading of the odious document came to an end, 
amid a murmur of general horror. 

“ Halberdiers, seize that man ! ” said the president, point- 
ing to the confidential secretary. 

The miserable fellow, helpless and speechless, was dragged 
from his seat and thrown upon the prisoners’ bench, amid the 
jeers of the spectators. 

“ My lords,” said the bishop, “ tremble and rejoice. The 
truth which has just been revealed to you will be still 
further confirmed by the chaplain of the royal prisons, our 
honored brother, Athanasius Munder, here present.” 

In fact, it was Athanasius Munder who had accompanied 
the bishop. He bowed to his ecclesiastical superior, and to 
the court ; and then, at a sign from the president, he spoke as 
follows, - — 

“ What I am about to say is the truth ; may Heaven punish 
me if I utter here a single word with any other intention than 
that of favoring justice ! After what I witnessed this morn- 
ing in the dungeon of the. viceroy’s son, I came to the con- 
clusion in my own mind that the young man was not guilty, 
although your lordships had condemned him on his own con- 
fession. Now, I was called a few hours ago to administer 
the last consolations of religion to the unfortunate mountain- 
eer who was so cruelly struck down in your presence, and 
whom you had condemned, my honorable lords, supposing 


410 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


him to be Hans of Iceland. Here is what the dying man 
said to me : ‘ I am not Hans of Iceland ; I have been pun- 
ished for taking that name. The one who paid me for 
playing that part is the confidential secretary to the grand 
chancellor’s office ; his name is Musdœmon, and he managed 
the whole revolt, under the name of Hacket. I believe he is 
the only guilty one concerned in the matter.’ Then he asked 
for my blessing, and begged me to come here with all possible 
haste, and report what he had said to the tribunal. God is 
witness to what I have told you. Would that I might save 
the blood of the innocent, and not cause that of the guilty to 
be shed ! ” He ended his speech, and again bowed to the 
bishop and the judges. 

“ Your grace perceives,” said the bishop to the president, 
“ that one of my clients was not wrong in detecting a resem- 
blance between the supposed Hacket and your confidential 
secretary.” 

“ Turiaf Musdœmon,” said the president to the prisoner, 
“ what have you to say in your own defence ? ” 

Musdœmon shot a look at his master that inspired him 
with terror. He had recovered all his assurance. After a 
moment’s silence, he responded, — 

“ Nothing, my lord.” 

“Do you, then,” the president went on in a weak and 
trembling voice, “confess yourself guilty of the crime that 
has been imputed to you ? Do you avow yourself to be the 
author of a conspiracy directed against the state and against 
the person known as Schumacker ?” 

“ Yes, my lord,” Musdœmon responded. 

“ My lord president,” said the bishop, rising to his feet, “ in 
order that there may be no uncertainty whatever in regard to 
this affair, let your grace demand of the accused, whether or 
not he had any accomplices.” 

“ Any accomplices ! ” repeated Musdœmon. He seemed to 
meditate for a moment, and the president’s countenance de- 
picted horrible anxiety. “No, my lord bishop,” he said 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


411 


finally. The president met his glance with a look of relief. 
“No; I had no accomplices, : ” Musdoemon repeated with still 
greater emphasis. “ I devised the whole plot out of devotion 
to my master, who knew nothing about it, that I might rid 
him of his enemy, Schumacker.” 

Another look was exchanged between the president and the 
prisoner. 

“ Your grace must see,” said the bishop,” that if Musdoe- 
mon had no accomplices, Baron Ordener Guldenlew cannot be 
guilty.” 

“If he is not guilty, reverend bishop, why did he confess 
himself to be so ? ” 

“My lord president, why did the mountaineer persist so 
obstinately in saying that he was Hans of Iceland, at the 
peril of his neck ? God alone knows the motives that dwell 
within the heart.” 

“ My lords,” said Ordener, “ I will tell you, now that the 
true culprit has been discovered. The simple fact is, that I 
accused myself falsely to save Schumacker, the former chan- 
cellor, whose death would have left his daughter without a 
protector.” 

The president bit his lips. 

“ We demand of the court,” said the bishop, “ that our 
client, Ordener, be found innocent.” 

The president responded with a gesture of acquiescence; 
and at the request of the chief syndic they completed their 
examination of the mysterious casket, which contained noth- 
ing more, except Schumacker’s records of title, and several 
letters from the Munckholm prisoner to Captain Dispolsen — 
letters that showed no evidences of guilt, in spite of their 
bitterness, and that could terrify no one but Chancellor 
Ahlefeld. 

The court withdrew for a brief period of deliberation, and 
while the eager crowd assembled on the parade-ground were 
waiting with impatience the appearance of the viceroy’s son, 
and while the executioner walked unconcernedly back and 


412 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


forth upon the scaffold, the president, in a scarcely audible 
voice, pronounced the sentence which condemned Turiaf 
Musdœmon to death, and rehabilitated Ordener Guldenlew, 
by restoring him to all his honors, titles, and privileges. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


413 


CHAPTER XLÏX. 

What will you take for your carcass, you rascal? 

On my honor, I wouldn’t give you even an obolus for it. 

St. Michael to Satan: A Mystery. 

All that remained of the regiment of Munckholm arque- 
busiers had returned to its former quarters, in a structure 
standing by itself in the middle of a large square court-yard 
inside the ramparts. As night approached, the doors were 
barred according to custom, and all the soldiers were inside, 
except the sentinels, who were on duty on the towers and in 
front of the military prison back of the barracks. This 
prison, which was*the strongest and most carefully guarded of 
all the Munckholm strongholds, contained the two condemned 
men who were to be hanged the next morning, — Hans of 
Iceland and Musdoemon. 

Hans of Iceland is alone in his cell. He is stretched out 
on the ground in his chains, with his head lying on a stone. 
A dim light falls upon him from a rectangular barred opening 
in the heavy oaken door, which separates his dungeon from 
the adjoining room, where he can hear his guards laughing 
and blaspheming, as they noisily pass the bottle from one to 
another, and throw dice, with a drumhead for a table. The 
monster writhes silently in the darkness, folds and unfolds 
his arms, draws up his knees and stretches them out again, 
and gnashes at his shackles with his teeth. All at once he 
lifts up his voice and calls aloud. A turnkey looks through 
the barred opening. 

“ What do you want ? ” he says to the brigand. 

“ Comrade,” says Hans, sitting up, “ I am cold. My stone 
bed is hard and damp. Give me a bundle of straw to sleep 
on, and a little fire to warm me.” 


414 


IJANS OF ICELAND. 


“’Tis only right,” the turnkey responds, “to give a little 
comfort to a poor devil who is going to be hanged, even if 
that devil be the one from Iceland. Fll go and bring you 
what you ask for. Have you any money ? ” 

“No,” the brigand replies. 

“What, you, the most notorious robber in Norway, with 
not even a few trifling gold ducats in your purse ? ” 

“ No,” the brigand replies. 

“ A few little royal crowns ? ” 

“No, I tell you ! ” 

“Not even a handful of paltry ascalins ?” 

“No, no, nothing, — not enough to buy a rat’s skin or a 
man’s soul.” 

“That’s different,” said the turnkey, shaking his head. 
“ You are wrong to complain ; your cell is not as cold as the 
one that you’ll sleep in to-morrow, and you won’t notice how 
hard the bed is, I dare swear.” 

Saying this, the turnkey went away, while the monster 
hurled a curse after him and continued to roll about in his 
chains. Now and then the links gave forth a feeble sound, as 
if they were being slowly pulled apart by violent and re- 
peated wrenches. The oaken door opened, and a tall man 
dressed in red serge and carrying a dark lantern entered the 
dungeon, accompanied by the turnkey who had refused the 
prisoner’s request. The brigand lay quite still. 

“ Hans of Iceland,” said the man in red, “ I am Nychol 
Orugix, the executioner of Drontheimhus. To-morrow, at 
daybreak, I am going to have the honor of hanging your 
excellency by the neck, to a fine new gallows on the public 
square in Drontheim.” 

“ Are you quite sure that you will hang me ? ” the brigand 
responded. 

“I wish I was quite as sure of climbing straight up to 
heaven on Jacob’s ladder as you are of mounting to the gib- 
bet to-morrow by Nychol Orugix’s ladder.” 

“Is that so? ” said the monster with a malicious glance. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


415 


“Once more, let me inform you, my lord brigand, that I 
am the provincial executioner.” 

“If I were not what I am, I would like to be you,” the 
brigand responded. 

“ I can’t say as much as that,” responded the executioner ; 
then, rubbing his hands together, with an expression of flat- 
tered vanity, he added, “my friend, you’re right; ours is 
a noble trade. Ah, my hand knows the weight of a man’s 
head ! ” 

“ Did you ever drink any blood ? ” the brigand demanded. 

“No ; but I have often put men to the question.” 

“ Did you ever devour the entrails of a little living child ? ” 

“No; but I have made bones crack between the trestle 
planks, I have twisted limbs on the spokes of a wheel, I have 
broken steel saws on denuded skulls, I have torn quivering 
flesh with red-hot iron pincers, I have scorched the blood in 
opened veins by pouring in melted lead and boiling oil.” 

“ Yes,” said the brigand thoughtfully ; “ you have had your 
pleasures too.” 

“ Well,” the executioner went on, “although you are Hans 
of Iceland, I believe that more souls have taken their flight 
under my hands than under yours, without counting what you 
will give up to-morrow.” 

“ You suppose too much. Do you really think, Drontheim- 
hus executioner, that you can drive the spirit of Ingolphus 
from Hans of Iceland’s body and not have him carry off 
yours ? ” 

“ Ah, well ; we shall see about that to-morrow,” the hang- 
man responded with an outburst of laughter. 

“ We shall see,” said the brigand. 

“Well,” said the executioner, “I have not come here to 
talk about your spirit, but only about your body. Listen; 
your carcass belongs to me, by right, after you are dead ; but 
the law gives you the privilege of selling it to me. Tell me, 
then, how much you want for it.” 

“ How much I want for my body ? ” said the brigand. 


416 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ Yes ; and deal honestly with me.” 

“ See here, comrade,” said Hans of Iceland, addressing the 
turnkey, “ how much will you take for a bundle of straw and 
a little fire ? ” 

“ Two gold ducats,” the turnkey responded after a moment’s 
thought. 

“Well,” said the brigand to the executioner, “you shall 
give me two gold ducats for my body.” 

“ Two gold ducats ! ” the hangman exclaimed. “ That is 
horribly dear. Two gold ducats for a paltry carcass ! No, 
of a truth, I’ll give no such price.” 

“ Then you won’t have it at all ! ” the monster responded 
tranquilly. 

“ You’ll be thrown into a ditch, if you don’t go to decorate 
the royal museum at Copenhagen or the collection of curiosi- 
ties at Bergen.” 

“ What’s that to me ? ” 

“ Long after your death, they’ll come in crowds to look at 
your skeleton, and say, ‘ These are the remains of the famous 
Hans of Iceland ! ’ They will polish your bones with care, 
fasten them together with copper wire, and place them under 
a big glass case, which they will dust off faithfully every day. 
Instead of these honors, think of what awaits you if you will 
not sell your body to me. You’ll be left to rot on a dung- 
heap, and you will be the prey of snakes and vultures.” 

“Very good; I shall be as well off as the living, who are 
all the time being pecked at by the small and devoured by 
the great.” 

“Two gold ducats,” the hangman repeated, between his 
teeth ; “ what an exorbitant demand ! If you don’t come 
down on your price, my dear Hans of Iceland, we won’t be 
able to make a trade.” 

“ This is the first and probably the last trade in my life ; I 
mean to get a good bargain.” 

“ Remember, I can make you repent of your obstinacy. 
You’ll be in my power to-morrow.” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


417 


“ Do you think so ? ” 

The words were uttered with an expression that escaped 
the executioner. 

“ Yes; and there is a knack in tying a slipnoose — still, if 
you’re reasonable, I’ll hang you better.” 

“ It will make mighty little difference to me what you do 
with my neck to-morrow,” the monster responded with an 
ironical grin. 

“ Well, now, won’t you take two royal crowns ? What do 
you want of so much money ? ” 

“ Ask your comrade,” said the brigand, with a nod at the 
turnkey ; “he asks two gold ducats for a little straw and fire.” 

“ That’s it,” said the executioner, in indignant tones to the 
turnkey; “by St. Joseph’s saw, it’s against all decency to 
make any one pay for fire and straw with their weight in 
gold. Two ducats ! ” 

“ I’m treating him well in not asking for four,” the turnkey 
responded sullenly. “ Why, look here, master Hychol, you’re 
as much of an Arab as the figure 2, to refuse a poor pris- 
oner two gold ducats for his carcass, when you know that you 
can sell it to some wiseacre for at least twenty.” 

“ I never gave more than fifteen ascalins for a body,” said 
the executioner. 

“ Yes,” the turnkey responded, “ a dirty thief or a wretched 
Jew may not be worth more than that, but every one knows 
that you can get what you like for Hans of Iceland’s body.” 

“ What have you got to do with it ? ” said Orugix roughly, 
while Hans of Iceland shook his head ; “ do I mix myself up 
with your little thieveries, — the clothes and jewels that you 
steal from prisoners, the dirty water that you put in their 
soup, and the torments you make them endure to get money 
from them? Ho; I won’t give two gold ducats.” 

“Ho straw and no fire for less than two gold ducats,” the 
obstinate turnkey responded. 

“Ho corpse for less than two gold ducats,” the impertur- 
bable brigand repeated. 


418 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ Well,” said the hangman, after a moment’s silence, stamp- 
ing on the ground, “ time flies. I have business elsewhere.” 

He took a leather bag from his jacket, and opened it slowly 
and with evident regret. 

“ There, cursed Iceland demon, there are your two ducats. 
I’m sure Satan wouldn’t give any more for your soul than I 
am giving for your bod}^.” 

The brigand picked up the two gold-pieces. The turnkey 
immediately put out his hand to take them. 

“ One moment, comrade ; bring me first what I asked for.” 

The turnkey went out, and came back a moment later, 
bringing a bundle of fresh straw and a brazier filled with 
glowing coals, which he put down near the prisoner. 

“ That’s right,” said the brigand, handing him the two 
ducats ; “ I’ll warm myself to-night. One word more,” he 
added in a sinister tone ; “ this dungeon adjoins the quarters 
of the Munckholm arquebusiers, does it not ? ” 

“ That is so,” the turnkey replied. 

“ And which way is the wind ? ” 

“ From the east, I think.” * 

“ All right,” responded the brigand. 

“ What is it you’re after, comrade ? ” the turnkey inquired. 

“ Oh, nothing,” responded the brigand. 

“ Farewell, comrade, till to-morrow morning.” 

“Yes, till to-morrow,” was the brigand’s reply. 

And the noise made by the closing of the heavy door pre- 
vented the hangman and his companion from hearing the 
savage, jeering chuckle which accompanied those words. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


419 


CHAPTER L. 

Do you expect to finish up with another transgression ? — Alex. Soumet. 

Let ns now take a look into the other dungeon in the mili- 
tary prison, adjoining the arquebusiers’ quarters, — the dun- 
geon containing our old acquaintance, Turiaf Musdœmon. 

It may perhaps have seemed surprising that Musdœmon, 
with all his subtle ingenuity and unlimited cowardice, should 
have so openly revealed to the court the crime for which he 
had been condemned, and should have sought with so much 
generosity to have concealed the participation in it of his 
ungrateful master, Chancellor Ahlefeld. The surprise would 
be uncalled for, however ; Musdœmon was as he had always 
been. His manifestations of generous good faith were perhaps 
the greatest proof of finesse that he had ever given. When 
he saw his whole infernal plot so inopportunely and unmistak- 
ably brought to light, he was for a moment stunned and hor- 
rified. This first impression passed away, his exceptional 
mental sagacity made him realize that, if he were powerless 
to bring his destined victims to ruin, he ought none the less 
to think of saving himself. Two courses lay open to him, — 
he might throw the whole blame upon the Count of Ahlefeld, 
who had so ignobly abandoned him, or take upon himself the 
responsibility for the crime which he had divided with the 
count. A common mind would have seized upon the first 
alternative ; Musdœmon chose the second. The chancellor 
was the chancellor, and moreover there was nothing directly 
compromising to him in the papers which had borne so heav- 
ily upon the confidential secretary. Then, he had exchanged 
several meaning glances with Musdœmon, and nothing more 


420 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


was necessary to decide the latter to let himself be con- 
demned, in the certainty that the Count of Ahlefeld would 
facilitate his escape, — less perhaps out of gratitude for ser- 
vices previously rendered, than out of need of future assistance. 

He was therefore pacing to and fro in his prison, which 
was but dimly illuminated by a sepulchral lamp, not doubting 
that the door would be opened to him during the night. He 
looked closely at the construction of the old stone dungeon, 
built by ancient kings whose names are scarcely remembered 
in history, and w^as surprised to see a wooden floor, over 
which his footsteps echoed sonorously, as if there were some 
subterranean cavity underneath. He noticed a large iron 
ring, fastened in the keystone of the ogive ceiling, with a 
piece of old broken rope hanging to it. Time passed on, and 
he listened impatiently to the donjon clock, as it slowly 
tolled forth the hours, Avith solemn reverberations, through 
the silence of the night. 

Finally there was a sound of footsteps outside the door of 
his dungeon, and his heart beat with hope. The enormous 
key turned with a creaking sound, the padlock rattled against 
the wood, the chains fell, and when the door opened his face 
became radiant with joy. It was the man in scarlet clothes, 
whom we just saw in Hans’s dungeon. He carried a coil of 
hempen rope under his arm, and was accompanied by four 
halberdiers, dressed in black, and armed with swords and par- 
tisans. Musdœmon still wore his magisterial robe and wig. 
The costume seemed to have its effect upon the man in red. 
He saluted, as if he were accustomed to greet it with respect. 

“My lord,” he said to the prisoner with some hesitation, 
“ is it with your excellency that we have to do ? ” 

“Yes, yes,” Musdœmon responded hastily, confirmed in 
his hope of escape by this preliminary politeness, and not 
taking note of the sanguinary color of the garb of the man 
who addressed him. 

“Your name,” said the man, with his eyes fixed upon a 
parchment which he had unfolded, “ is Turiaf Musdœmon.” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


421 


“Exactly. You come, my friends, from the grand chan- 
cellor ? ” 

“ Yes, your excellency.” 

“ Do not forget, when you have finished with your task, to 
express to his grace my profound gratitude.” 

The man in the red clothes looked at him with astonish- 
ment. 

“ Your — gratitude ! ” 

“ Yes, certainly, my friend ; for it will probably be impos- 
sible for me to express it in person very shortly.” 

“ Probably,” the man responded with an ironical expres- 
sion. 

“And you must feel,” Musdœmon went on, “that I ought 
not to show myself ungrateful for such a service.” 

“ By the cross of the penitent thief,” the other exclaimed 
with a hearty laugh, “ one would say, to listen to you, that 
the chancellor had some other fate in store for your excel- 
lency.” 

“ Undoubtedly he is simply treating me at this moment 
with exact justice.” 

“ Exact is good — but if you acknowledge that it is justice, 
this is the first time I have had any such experience in the 
twenty-six years that I have exercised my calling. Well, my 
lord, time passes while we talk ; are you ready ? ” 

“ Why, of course,” said Musdœmon joyfully, taking a step 
toward the door. 

“ Wait, wait a moment,” the man in red exclaimed, stoop- 
ing down to put his coil of rope on the floor. 

“ What are you going to do with all that rope ? ” said 
Musdœmon, coming to a halt. 

“ Your excellency is right in asking that question, for to 
tell the truth I have much more than I need ; but at the 
beginning of the trial I thought there would be a good many 
condemned.” With these words he proceeded to uncoil the 
rope. 

“Well, let us hasten,” said Musdœmon. 


422 


IIANS OF ICELAND. 


“Your excellency is in a great hurry. Have you no sup- 
plication to make ? ” 

“None, except what I have already spoken of, — my grati- 
tude to his grace. For God’s sake, let’s hasten,” Musdœmon 
added ; “ I am impatient to get out of this place. Have we 
any great distance to go ? ” 

“ Any distance ! ” the man in scarlet clothes responded, 
standing up and measuring off several arms’ lengths of rope. 
“ The distance that we have to go will not very greatly fatigue 
your excellency, for we shall reach our destination without 
stepping foot outside of this place.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” said Musdœmon trembling. 

“What do you mean yourself ?” the other demanded. 

“ 0 God ! ” said Musdœmon, turning pale, as if he beheld 
a spectre ; “ who are you ? ” 

“ I am the hangman.” 

The miserable fellow trembled like a dead leaf shaken in 
the wind. 

“ Did you not come to help me get away ? ” he murmured 
in a stifled tone. 

“ Why, yes, indeed,” the hangman exclaimed, with an out- 
burst of laughter; “to help you get away into the spirit- 
land, where T can assure you they will never be able to fetch 
you back.” 

“ Mercy ! Have pity on me ! Mercy ! ” shrieked Musdœ- 
mon, as he fell face downward on the floor. 

“ On my word,” said the hangman coldly, “ this is the first 
time that any such request has ever been made of me. Do 
you take me for the king ? ” 

The unhappy wretch dragged himself along on his knees, 
staining his robe with dust, striking his forehead, which had 
been so radiant a moment before, upon the planking, and em- 
braced the hangman’s feet, with half-audible moans and sobs. 

“ There, enough of that ! ” said the hangman. “ Never be- 
fore this did I see the black robe humble itself before my 
red jacket.” He thrust the supplicant aside with his foot. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


423 


“ Comrade, pray to God and the saints ; they will listen to 
you better than I.” 

Musdcemon remained upon .his knees, his face hidden in his 
hands, weeping bitterly. Meanwhile the hangman rose upon 
tiptoe, and put the rope through the ring in the arched ceil- 
ing. He let it fall down to the floor, then made it fast with 
a double turn, and tied a slipnoose at the lower end. 

“ There we are,” he said to the prisoner, when these sug- 
gestive preparations were ended; “have you disposed of your 
life with as much dexterity ? ” 

“Ho,” said Musdcemon getting to his feet — “no, it cannot 
be ! You are laboring under some horrible mistake. Chan- 
cellor Ahlefeld is not infamous enough — I am too necessary 
to him. ’Tis impossible that you should have been sent to 
me. Let me go, lest you incur the chancellor’s anger.” 

“ Didn’t you tell me,” the hangman responded, “ that you 
are Turiaf Musdœmon ? ” 

“'Ho,” said the prisoner suddenly, after a moment’s silence, 
— “ no, my name is not Musdœmon ; my name is Turiaf 
Orugix.” 

“ Orugix ! ” exclaimed the executioner — “ Orugix ! ” He 
quickly snatched off the wig which shaded the prisoner’s face, 
and uttered a cry of stupefaction, “ My brother ! ” 

“ Your brother ! ” the prisoner responded, with mingled 
emotions of astonishment, shame, and joy; “are you” — 

“ Hychol Orugix, executioner of Drontheimhus, at your ser- 
vice, brother Turiaf.” 

The condemned man threw himself upon the executioner’s 
neck calling him his brother, his dear brother. This exhibi- 
tion of fraternal regard would not have touched the heart of 
any one who happened to be a witness of it. Turiaf lavished 
a thousand caresses upon Hychol, with an affected and shame- 
faced smile, to which Hychol responded with sombre and em- 
barrassed glances. It was like a tiger fawning upon an 
elephant, at the moment when the great beast’s heavy foot 
presses upon his victim’s quivering flank. 


424 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ What happiness, brother Nychol ! I am very glad to see 
.you again.” 

“ And I am very sorry for you, brother Turiaf .” 

The condemned man made as if he did not understand, and 
went on, in a trembling voice, — 

“ You have a wife and children, I suppose ? You will take 
me to see my amiable sister, and allow me to embrace my 
charming nephews.” 

“By the demon’s sign of the cross!” the hangman mut- 
tered. 

“ I would be a second father to them. Listen, brother ; I 
am influential, I have resources.” 

“I know you have,” the brother responded in a sinister 
tone; “just now, it will be well for you to think only of 
what influence you have with the saints.” 

“ 0 God ! ” exclaimed the condemned man, every trace of 
hope disappearing from his countenance ; “ what does this 
mean, dear Nychol ? I am saved, sincé I have found you. 
Remember that we came from the same womb, that we were 
nourished at the same breast, that we engaged in the same 
childish sports — remember, Nychol, that you are my 
brother ! ” 

“You never thought of it till this hour came,” Nychol 
responded sullenly. 

“ But I cannot die by my brother’s hand ! ” 

“’Tis your fault, Turiaf. You shattered my career, pre- 
vented me from being royal executioner at Copenhagen, and 
had me cast aside into this miserable country, as provincial 
hangman. If you had not been so unbrotherly to me, you 
would not be complaining of what goes against you so much 
to-day. I shouldn’t be in Drontheimhus, and somebody else 
would have been attending to your affair. We’ve talked 
enough, brother ; you’ll have to die.” 

Death is hideous to the wicked, for the same cause that it 
is beautiful to the good, — each is about to put aside the as- 
pect of humanity ; but the upright man is set free from his 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


425 


body as from a prison, while the sinner is snatched from it, out 
of a stronghold. At the last moment hèll comes as a revela- 
tion to a perverse soul, which has been dreaming of annihila- 
tion. It knocks uneasily at the sombre door of death, and 
something more than oblivion responds. 

The prisoner rolled upon the floor, wringing his hands, 
with complaints more pitiful than the eternal lamentations of 
the damned. 

“ God have mercy ! Holy angels in heaven, if you exist, 
have compassion on me ! Nychol, dear Nychol, in the name 
of our mother — - oh, let me live ! ” 

“ I can’t, ” said the executioner, showing his parchment ; 
“the order is absolute.” 

“ That order does not concern me,” the desperate prisoner 
stammered ; “ it relates to a certain Musdœmon, and not to 
me ; I am Turiaf Orugix.” 

“ You are trifling with me,” said Hychol with a shrug. 
“ I know very well that you’re the one. More than that,” he 
added, unrelentingly, “you were not Turiaf Orugix to your 
brother yesterday, and you are only Turiaf Musdœmon to 
him to-day.” 

“ My brother, my brother ! ” the miserable man reiterated ; 
“ well, wait till to-morrow ! The grand chancellor cannot 
have given the order for my death. ’Tis some frightful mis- 
take. The Count of Ahlefeld is very fond of me. I beseech 
you, my dear Nycliol, spare my life ! I shall soon be re- 
stored to favor, and I will render you all the service ” — 

“You can only render me one, Turiaf,” the hangman inter- 
rupted. “I have already lost the two executions that I 
counted on most, — those of the ex-chancellor Schumacker 
and the viceroy’s son. I’m always in bad luck. You and 
Hans of Iceland are all that remain to me. Your execution, 
being nocturnal and secret, will only bring me in twelve gold 
ducats. Give me, then, as little trouble as possible; that’s 
the only service that I want from you.” 

“ 0 God ! ” said the condemned man piteously. 


426 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ It will be the first and the last, of a truth ; but by way of 
compensation I promise you that you shall not suffer. I’ll 
hang you in brotherly fashion. Don’t make a fuss.” 

Musdœmon stood erect, his nostrils were puffed out with 
rage, his greenish lips trembled, his teeth chattered, and his 
mouth was foaming with despair. 

“ Satan ! I would have saved Ahlefeld, I would have em- 
braced my brother, and they put me to death ! I must die 
to-night, in an obscure dungeon, where my curses will be 
unheard, from whence my voice cannot sound their infamy 
from one end of the kingdom to the other, from whence my 
hand cannot tear away the veil that hides their crimes ! To 
come to this death I have defiled my whole life ! Scoun- 
drel,” he went on, addressing his brother, “do you want to be 
a fratricide ? ” 

“I’m the hangman,” the phlegmatic Nychol responded. 

“No!” the prisoner shouted, throwing himself upon the 
executioner, his eyes gleaming and shedding tears, like a bull 
at bay. “No, I’ll not die in this way ! I’ve not lived like a 
terror-inspiring serpent to be crushed like a miserable worm ! 
I will give up my life with my last bite, but it shall be 
deadly.” 

Saying this, he clutched like an enemy the man whom he 
had just been embracing as a brother. At that moment, the 
flattering, smooth-tongued Musdœmon showed himself as he 
really was. Despair had stirred his soul to the dregs. Like a 
tiger he had crouched, and like a tiger he made his spring. 
It would have been difficult to decide which of the two broth- 
ers was the more terrifying, as they struggled together, — 
one with the dull ferocity of a wild beast, the other with the 
adroit fury of a demon. The four halberdiers, who hitherto 
had remained passive, now came to the assistance of the hang- 
man ; and in a few moments Musdœmon, whose only strength 
was in his wrath, was constrained to loosen his hold. He 
threw himself face foremost against the wall, uttering inartic- 
ulate cries, and scraping his nails against the stones. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


427 


“ To die, by all the devils in hell, to die, and my shrieks 
cannot pierce these walls, or my arms overturn them ! ” 

They took hold of him without encountering any resistance. 
His futile struggle had exhausted him. They pulled off his 
robe to bind him, and a sealed packet fell from his clothing. 

“ What’s that ? ” asked the executioner. 

A ray of infernal hope gleamed in the prisoner’s haggard 
eyes. 

“ How did I come to forget that ? ” he murmured. “ Lis- 
ten, brother Nychol,” he added, in an almost friendly tone ; 
“ these papers belong to the grand chancellor. Promise me 
to give them to him, and then do with me what you will.” 

“ As you are quiet now, I promise to carry out your last 
wishes, although you behaved toward me in a most unbroth- 
erly way. The papers will be given to the chancellor, upon 
the honor of Orugix.” 

“Ask to give them to him yourself,” the condemned man 
went on, smiling at the executioner, who was not very famil- 
iar with smiles on such occasions. “ The pleasure that they 
will give his grace will perhaps earn for you some favor.” 

“ Is that true, brother ? ” said Orugix ; “ many thanks. 
Perhaps a commission as royal executioner will come of it. 
Well, let’s part good friends. I’ll forgive you for the digs 
you gave me with your finger nails ; pardon me for the rope 
collar I’m going to put about your neck.” 

“ ’Twas another kind of collar the chancellor promised me,” 
Musdœmon responded. 

Then the halberdiers led him to the middle of the dungeon, 
and the executioner put the fatal slipnoose about his neck. 

“ Turiaf, are you ready ? ” 

“ One moment, one moment ! ” said the prisoner, his terror 
coming back again ; “ for pity’s sake, brother, don’t tighten 
the rope till I tell you.” 

“ I shall have no need to tighten the rope,” the executioner 
responded. And in a moment he repeated his question, 
“ Are you ready ? ” 


428 


JJ AN S OF ICELAND. 


“ One moment more. Alas, so I must die ! ” 

“ Turiaf, I can’t wait any longer.” Saying this, Orugix 
motioned to the halberdiers to move away from the prisoner. 

“ One word more, brother ; do not forget to give the packet 
to the Count of Ahlefeld.” 

“ Be easy about that,” the brother responded, and for the 
third time inquired, “ Well, are you ready? ” 

The unfortunate man opened his mouth, perhaps to beg • 
for one moment more of life, when the impatient hangman 
stooped down. He turned a copper button fastened in the 
floor. The planks fell away from under the victim, and he 
disappeared through a square trap-door, while the rope made 
a dull, rustling sound, and then suddenly became taut, and 
vibrated violently with the last convulsions of the dying man. 
Nothing could be seen through the gloomy opening but the 
straining rope, but up through the floor came a blast of wind 
and a noise like that of rushing water. 

Even the halberdiers drew back in horror. The hangman 
approached the opening, seized the rope, which was still 
swaying from side to side, and let himself down part way 
into the abyss, resting his two feet on the victim’s shoulders. 
The rope stretched out with a raucus sound and became mo- 
tionless. A stifled sigh floated up through the trap-door. 

“ That’s good,” said the hangman, climbing up again into 
the dungeon. “ Farewell, brother ! ” He took a knife from 
his belt. “ Go feed the fishes in the bay. Your body goes 
into the water, and your soul into the fires of hell.” 

With these words, he cut the straining rope. The part 
that remained fast to the iron ring snapped back against the 
ceiling, and they heard the splash of a falling body, as the 
deep, dark water spurted up from below, and then went on its 
subterranean course to the bay. The executioner closed the 
trap and made it fast, and as he rose to his feet he saw that 
the dungeon was full of smoke. 

“ What’s this ? ” he asked the halberdiers ; “ where does 
this smoke come from ? ” 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


429 


They knew no more about it than he did, and in their sur- 
prise they opened the dungeon door. The prison corridors 
were also filled with a thick and nauseating vapor. Through 
a secret passage-way they emerged in great alarm into the 
square court-yard, where a terrifying spectacle awaited them. 
A raging fire, driven to fury by the violent east wind, was 
destroying the military prison and the arquebusiers’ barracks. 
The flames swept in giddy whirls over the stone walls, leaped 
from the glowing roof, and darted like tongues from the 
broken windows. The gloomy towers of Munckholm stood 
out clearly at one moment in the reddish glare, and then dis- 
appeared in the thick clouds of smoke. A turnkey, who 
rushed into the court-yard, told them in a few words that the 
fire had started in Hans of Iceland’s dungeon, while the 
guards were asleep. 

“ Just my luck ! ” exclaimed Orugix, when he heard this ; 
“ probably Hans of Iceland has escaped me too ! The villain 
will be burned, and I sha’n’t even get the body that I paid 
two ducats for ! ” 

Meanwhile the unfortunate Munckholm arquebusiers, sud- 
denly awakened by the peril of death, rushed in a crowd to 
the main door, which through evil chance had been barri- 
caded. Those outside could hear their cries of agony and 
distress, and could see them wringing their hands at the blaz- 
ing windows, or springing out upon the court-yard pavement, 
evading one mode of death to find it in another. The trium- 
phant flames pervaded the whole structure before the re- 
mainder of the garrison had time to come to the rescue. 
Efforts at succor were already useless. Fortunately the 
building stood by itself. They tried to break in the main 
door with axes, but it was too late ; for at the very moment 
when it gave way, the burning roof timbers fell upon the un- 
fortunate soldiers with a thundering sound, dragging the parti- 
tions and burning floors in its downfall. The entire building 
vanished from sight in a whirlwind of sparks and smoke, and 
only a few feeble cries indicated the fate of the victims. 


430 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


The next morning all that remained in the square court- 
yard were four tall, blackened, heated walls, enclosing a hor- 
rifying mass of smoking ruins, where the fire still smouldered. 
When the place became cool enough, they began to dig. 
Under a layer of stones, timbers, and twisted ironwork, they 
found a heap of whitened bones and disfigured corpses ; with 
thirty soldiers, for the most part crippled, this was all that 
remained of the dashing Munckholm regiment. 

When, in their exploration of the ruins, they came to the 
ill-fated dungeon where Hans of Iceland had been confined, 
and whence the fire had started, they found the remains of a 
human body, lying upon pieces of broken chain near an iron 
brazier. It was noticed as a curious fact that two skulls 
were discovered there, although there was but one skeleton. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


431 


CHAPTER LI. 

Saladin. Bravo, Ibrahim; thou art indeed a hearer of joyful tidings. I 
thank thee for thy good news. 

The Mameluke. Well, is there nothing more ? 

Saladin. What dost thou expect ? 

The Mameluke. Nothing hut this for the hearer of good tidings ? 

Lessing : Nathan the Wise. 

The Count of Ahlefeld paced to and fro in his apartment, 
clinching in his hands a package of letters that he had just 
been looking through, and stamping on the polished marble 
floor and the gold-fringed rug. His countenance was pale and 
anxious. At the other side of the room stood Nychol Orugix 
in an attitude of profound respect, wearing his infamous red 
clothes, and with his felt hat in his hand. 

“You have indeed done me a service, Musdoemon,” the 
chancellor muttered angrily, between his set teeth. “ Is his 
grace satisfied ? ” inquired the hangman in dull embarrass- 
ment. 

“ What is it that you want ? ” said the chancellor, turning 
upon him roughly. 

The hangman smiled hopefully, in his pride at having at- 
tracted the chancellor’s attention. 

“ What is it I want, your grace ? The position of execu- 
tioner at Copenhagen, if your grace will deign to bestow this 
great favor in return for the good news I bring.” 

The chancellor summoned two halberdiers, who were on 
guard at the door to his apartment. 

“ Put this scoundrel under arrest,” he said ; “ he has the 
insolence to mock at me ! ” 

The two guards dragged the astounded and stupefied Ny- 
chol away, while he sought to make another appeal, — 


432 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ My lord ” — 

“ You are no longer executioner for Drontheimhus ; I can- 
cel your commission/’ the chancellor responded, slamming the 
door violently. 

The chancellor seized the letters again, and read them over 
and over in rage, inebriated as it were with his own dishonor ; 
for the letters were the countess’s correspondence with Mus- 
dœmon. The writing was Elphega’s. He saw that Ulrica 
was not his daughter, and that Frederic, whom he had so 
deeply mourned for, had perhaps not been his son. The 
unhappy count was wounded in the pride which had been 
the cause of all his crimes. It was not a serious matter to 
see vengeance escape from under his hand ; but he beheld all 
his ambitious dreams shattered, his past dishonored, his 
future annihilated. He had tried to ruin his enemies ; he 
had only succeeded in destroying his own good name, in put- 
ting an end to his confidential adviser, and in sacrificing his 
rights as husband and father. 

He desired at least to have one more interview with the 
miserable creature who had betrayed him. He hurried 
through the great rooms with eager tread, holding the let- 
ters in his hands, as if they were a thunderbolt. With 
furious rage he tore open the door to Elphega’s apartment, 
and entered. His guilty spouse had just been suddenly in- 
formed by Colonel Vœthaün of her son Fredericks horrible 
death. The poor mother had gone mad. 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


433 


CONCLUSION. 

What I said by way of jest, you have taken seriously. — Spanish Romances : 

King Alphonzo to Bernard. 

For a fortnight the events that we have just been narrating 
were the exclusive theme of conversation in Drontheim. and 
Prontheimhus, public opinion varying, according to the dif- 
ferent points of view from which the subject was regarded. 
The populace, who had waited in vain for the spectacle of 
seven successive executions, was in despair at being deprived 
of so much pleasure ; the half-blind old women were still 
relating how, on the night of the deplorable destruction of 
the barracks, they had seen Hans of Iceland flying away on 
a spurt of flame, laughing at the conflagration, and kicking in 
the burning roof upon the Munckholm arquebusiers. Then, 
after an absence which had seemed very long to Ethel, 
Ordener reappeared at the Lion of Schleswig donjon, accom- 
panied by General Levin de Knud and Athanasius Munder, 
the chaplain. At that moment Schumacker was walking in 
the garden, leaning on his daughter’s arm. The two young 
people with difficulty refrained from rushing to a mutual 
embrace, but they were forced to content themselves with a 
look. Schumacker pressed Ordener’s hand affectionately, and 
saluted the two strangers with every evidence of good will. 

“ Young man,” said the old prisoner, “ may Heaven’s bless- 
ing rest on your return ! ” 

“My lord,” Ordener responded, “I have just arrived. I 
have seen my father at Bergen, and I have come to greet my 
father at Drontheim.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” the old man inquired with astonish- 
ment. 


434 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


“ That you will give me your daughter, my lord.” 

“ My daughter!” the prisoner exclaimed, turning towards 
Ethel, who was blushing and trembling. 

“ Yes, my lord ; I love your Ethel. To her I have conse- 
crated my life, and she is mine.” 

“ You are a noble and worthy young man, my son,” said 
Schumacker with a gloomy face ; “ and although your father 
did me much harm, I pardon him, out of regard for you, and 
I would willingly approve of this alliance ; but there is one 
obstacle.” 

“ And that, my lord ? ” Ordener asked uneasily. 

“You love my daughter, but are you sure that she loves 
you ? ” The two young people looked at each other in mute 
surprise. “ Yes,” the father went on, “ Em sorry for it, for 
you are dear to me, and I should be glad to call you my son ; 
it is my daughter who opposes the idea. She declared her 
aversion to you quite recently. While you were away she 
kept silent when I spoke of you, and seemed to wish to keep 
you out of her thoughts, as if she couldn’t bear to have you 
in memory. You must therefore renounce your love, Ordener 
— fortunately one can cure one’s self of loving, as one can of 
hating.” 

“ My lord ! ” said Ordener in stupefaction. 

“ My father ! ” said Ethel, clasping her hands. 

“Do not be alarmed, my daughter,” the old man inter- 
rupted ; “ the marriage would be pleasing to me, but it is dis- 
pleasing to you, and I do not wish to torture your heart, 
Ethel. You must know that in the last fortnight I am 
greatly changed. I shall not attempt to overcome your re- 
pugnance to Ordener. You are free.” 

“ Indeed she is not,” said Athanasius Munder with a smile. 

“ You are mistaken, my noble father,” Ethel added auda- 
ciously ; “ I do not hate Ordener.” 

“ What ! ” her father exclaimed. 

“ I am ” — Ethel responded ; then she faltered. 

“ She is my wife, father,” said Ordener, kneeling before 


HANS OF ICELAND. 


435 


the old man. “ Pardon me, as my other father has already 
pardoned me, and give your children your blessing.” 

It was SchumackePs turn to be astonished ; but the old man 
gave his blessing to the young people, as they knelt before 
him. 

u I have had so many occasions for cursing in my life,” he 
said, “ that I seize every opportunity for a blessing, without 
any questions. But I shall be glad if you will explain to me.” 

Everything was explained to him. He shed tears of grat- 
itude and affection. 

“ I am old, and I believed myself wise, and I could not read 
a young girl’s heart ! ” 

“ So I may call myself by Ordener Guldenlew’s name ! ” 
said Ethel with childish delight. 

“ Ordener Guldenlew,” said old Schumacker, “you are a 
better man than I ; for in the d ays of my prosperity I cer- 
tainly would not have stooped from my position to unite 
myself to the daughter of a poor and disgraced prisoner.” 

The general seized Schumacher’s hand, and gave him a roll 
of parchments, saying, — 

“ Do not speak in that way, my lord count. Here are your 
titles, which the king was sending to you by Dispolsen. His 
majesty joins with them the gift of pardon and liberty. This 
is the dower of your daughter, the Countess Danneskiold.” 

“ Pardon ! Liberty ! ” Ethel repeated in ecstasy. 

“ Countess of Danneskiold ! ” her father added. 

“ Yes, count,” the general went on ; “ you will resume all 
your honors, and all your riches are restored to you.” 

“ To whom do I owe all this ? ” the happy Schumacker 
demanded. 

“ To General Levin de Knud,” responded Ordener. 

“ Levin de Knud ! Did I not tell you, governor, that Levin 
de Knud is the best man living ? But why did he not come 
in person to witness my happiness ? Where is he ? ” 

“ He is here ! ” said Ordener, pointing in astonishment to 
the general, who was smiling amid his tears. 


436 


Il ANS OF ICELAND. 


The reunion of the two old friends was indeed a touching 
spectacle. Schumacker’s heart had been melted at last. 
When he came to know Hans of Iceland, he had ceased to 
hate mankind ; when he came to know Ordener and Levin, 
hatred was transformed to love. 

An elaborate and charming festal celebration soon followed 
the sombre marriage in the dungeon. Life began to smile on 
the two young people, who themselves had smiled in facing 
death. The Count of Ahlefeld beheld their happiness, and it 
was his most cruel punishment. Athanasius Munder also 
saw his fondest wishes realized. He obtained pardon for the 
twelve convicts; and Ordener extended the decree to his 
former comrades in misfortune, — Kennybol, Jonas, and Nor- 
bith, who returned with joy to their homes, and announced 
to the pacified miners that the king had released them from 
guardianship. 

Schumacker did not long survive the marriage of Ethel and 
Ordener ; liberty and happiness were too sweet to be endured, 
and his soul went to seek liberty and happiness elsewhere. 
He died in that same year of 1699, and grief at his loss 
served to teach his children that perfect felicity does not 
exist upon this earth. His tomb was made in the church at 
Veer, — an estate owned by his son-in-law in Jutland, — and 
all the titles that had been taken from him in his captivity 
were recorded over his grave. From the alliance of Ordener 
and Ethel sprang the family of the counts of Danneskiold. 































